


The Cute Guy In 2B

by LightningStriking



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But Really It All Works Out, Fluff, Happy Ending, I'm so sorry, INCREDIBLY SLOW BURN, Implied/Referenced Sex, It just happened, M/M, Misunderstandings, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Pining, Rumlow Is A Jerkface, Shy Steve, Stucky - Freeform, Unexpected Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:43:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7215526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStriking/pseuds/LightningStriking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a commitment wary artist on the second floor.  Bucky is a romantic at heart, movie fanatic on the first.  When a power outage cause the two to meet, it doesn't take long for Bucky to realize he wants to win Steve over.  No matter what it takes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely readers! So what can I say, I'm a sucker for a Stucky AU. Please enjoy a fun, fluff filled twist on Steve and Bucky meeting as adults. And please forgive any mistakes, as this work had not been beta'd.

“Son of a taco.”

            Swearing as the room plunged into darkness and silence, Steve paused with the paintbrush hovering in the air, blinking at the blackness that had taken over his vision. When everything stayed dark as midnight after several blinks, he sighed, accepted that he hadn’t simply been struck with temporary blindness, carefully placed his paintbrush on the palate he knew lay to his right, and stepped back from the easel. Always one to appreciate a downpour, Steve had enjoyed the spring storm that had kept him company as he’d painted, with plenty of atmospheric thunder and lightning. Unfortunately, it had also clearly decided to knock out the power in his apartment building, which had questionable electricity at the best of times.  

            Carefully walking through his kitchen, Steve managed to stub his toe only once as he felt his way to the junk drawer that held his lighter, letting out a triumphant “Ha!” as he found it among the Chinese take-out menus, pens, tins of mints and an excessive number of rolls of tape. Yet his victory was short lived when he flicked the lighter, and nothing happened.

            “Seriously?” Steve demanded, flicking the lighter several more times, but, as with his blinking, the result was just as unsuccessful. A complete lack of illumination. Feeling his way to the trash can, stubbing his other foot in the process, Steve chucked the spent lighter in the bin dramatically, though the effect was a bit diminished since no one saw it, himself included. Biting his lip, he considered his options. He could just call it a night and go to bed, but he hated to let the paint dry out and go to waste. Sighing, Steve bumped to his way to the door, and pulled it open, carefully stepping out and knocking on the door across from his. When there was no answer, Steve frowned, then remembered he’d heard Sharon, the nice neighbor across the hall, leave an hour earlier. Meaning there was no choice but to go downstairs.

            “Cheese and rice,” Steve muttered to himself as he kept a death grip on the stair rail and made his way down the steps, only tripping once, before he slid his hand along the wall, found the downstairs neighbors door across from him, and knocked. But alas, three knocks and four minutes later, sweet old Mr. Garcia didn’t answer, leading Steve to believe he was either in bed or out playing bingo with his retiree buddies. Frowning, Steve turned to his last option, and the one he’d been avoiding at all costs. The neighbor directly below him.

            Considering his options once more, and concluding he’d correctly figured them out the first time, he sighed, gave in, and knocked on the door. Fingers crossed, two minutes later Steve had given up and accepted that this unknown neighbor had a more active social live than he did on a Friday night – heck, the whole building clearly did- before the door jerked open, startling him into jumping. Within a second, Steve was instantly wishing he’d taken the time, and risked slamming his fingers in his dresser drawer to put on something a little nicer than his ratty pajama bottoms and ancient Patriots hoody. Because as he took in his first look at 1A, all he could think was, damn. He was hot.

            He stood in the doorway, balancing a laptop on one arm that illuminated a face that was all strong angles, gorgeous lips, and shadow of a beard over a strong jaw, holding a slice of pizza in the other. “Um, hi,” Steve managed when he realized he’d been blinking at him for longer than was probably appropriate.

            “Little late at night to be selling girl scout cookies isn’t it? Wow, how late is it? It’s dark out here,” he observed.

            “Ha, um, yeah, no cookies. I’m actually your upstairs neighbor, 2B? I was hoping you had a lighter or some matches I could use.” When he raised a brow and took another bite of pizza, Steve added slowly, “Because the power is out.”

            “Is it? Huh. Didn’t even notice. Guess that explains why it’s dark out here.” Turning away, he walked back into his apartment, leaving the door hanging open. “Come on in.”

            “Oh no, I. . .” Steve started, but when he was talking to empty air, he shrugged, and stepped a few cautious feet inside, hoping he wasn’t living above an aspiring ax murderer. If he was, there was probably no better time to start chopping up foolish blondes than in the middle of a lightning storm when the power was knocked out. Definitely a possibility, Steve judged as he noted the messy interior, but he would take his chances because, dang, he really needed a lighter. Plus, he’d like to think his chances in a fight were pretty good, particularly when living was motivation for winning. Glancing curiously around at the apartment in the blue tinted glow from the laptop screen that 1A set on the counter in the kitchen, Steve immediately concluded he either lived with a roommate, or was flying solo, given the number of cereal boxes living on top of his fridge, and the pizza cartons covering most over his counter space.

            “I know I’ve got a hundred lighters around this place, can’t ever seem to find them when I need them,” he called out as he wandered into his bedroom to fish through the clothes piled on his floor.

            “Listen, if you can’t find one it’s no big deal,” Steve began, then jerked in surprise at the sudden muffled scream that cut through the apartment. Even as he tried to turn a strangled gasp into a more manly cough, heart instantly pounding, 1A came back into the kitchen, laughing as he held up a hand apologetically.

            “Sorry, sorry, just a movie. Not currently keeping anyone locked up in my dungeon, promise.”

            Laughing at himself in embarrassment even as he rubbed a hand over his chest, Steve hoped it was too dark to show the blush that was burning in his cheeks. “Now why would you think I’d jump to that conclusion?” Steve had, but didn’t want him to know that. “What are you watching?” he questioned, half out of curiosity, half to distract 1A as he leaned against the wall, a knowing smile on his face.

            “Ah, Piranhaconda, actually,” he admitted, and watched the grin spread across his face. Smile like that, should have lit up the apartment for 2B, he thought to himself.

            “That is such a good one! I love sci-fi channel movies, they’re so terrible they’re amazing. Have you seen Sharknado?” He watched with interest at the tension seemed to melt out of 2B even as those ridiculously blue eyes lit up.

            “Now, what kind of sci-fi fan would I be if I hadn’t?” he replied, deciding he was grateful the power had been knocked out when it brought a frankly dead sexy neighbor who enjoyed B rated movies, a genre not many individual shared his interest in.

            “Okay, that was too easy. What about Dinoshark?”

            “Can I say no?” 1A smiled back at him, even as he dug through his junk drawer, and came up with a lighter at last.

            “Oh, right, lighter. Thank you so much. I’ll bring it right back once I light a few candles-” Steve started, but he waved away the offer.

            “It’s all yours, don’t sweat it. Besides, if Robocroc comes attacking, you should have fire to fight it off with. “

            “Ha. Well, thanks again,” Steve said as he moved back towards the door. Flicking on the lighter so he wouldn’t eat it making his way back up the stairs, all too likely given his klutz genes, Steve glanced back at 1A who once again leaned against the jam, a new slice of pizza in hand. “Have a good night.”

            “You too,” 1A called, watching him disappear up the steps, waiting until he’d closed the door before grinning happily. Who knew a storm causing a power outage would create his lucky day?


	2. Chapter 2

Panting as his crawling jog slowed to a walk, Steve rested his hands on his hips, bent over as he stopped in front of the apartment building. As sweat beaded on his skin, he drew in lungfuls of air, swiped his arm across his forehead. And as he did at the end of every workout, he told himself, “See, that wasn’t so bad.” He never believed it, but he liked to think one day he would. Until that magical day, he would continue to browbeat himself into exercising, enjoying if nothing else, the sense of relief he got when it was over. Thank God that was done for another day.

            Having grown up small, sickly and scrawny, Steve had been committed from the second his growth spurt finally hit to creating the body nature hadn’t seen fit to give him, mostly in an attempt to be as healthy as possible after a lifetime as being sick. Part of it though, he was honest enough to admit, was in a desire to feel more attractive than he had growing up. It was hard being singled out constantly, not by attractive people for dates, but rather by bullies for fights he’d had no chance of winning. Now, he was over six feet and two hundred pounds of muscle, but it hadn’t come easy. And despite the dedication it had taken to get it, he hadn’t loved the process. Exercising kind of sucked. Slowly making his way up the walk towards the apartment, Steve plopped down on the steps in front of the door, leaned back, and turned his face up to the sun.

            Standing on his patio, 1A watched 2B as he smiled with his eyes closed, and took a drag on his cigarette. He’d been in his living room when he’d noticed 2B jog by on the sidewalk, and strolled out for a smoke, more pleased than he’d anticipated at the sight of his. He’d spend the previous night thinking about the hot upstairs neighbor, glancing up contemplatively when he’d heard him on the floor boards above. Curious to see if the tall blond was as adorable in the light of day, he tossed around various reasons to go up and see him, get another look at him, and so was pleased none of the admittedly cheesy excuses had been necessary. Here he was. And in the light of day, 2B was even cuter than he’d anticipated. Golden hair darkened with sweat, gray running shorts, and a frankly indecently tight black t-shirt showed off a heavily muscled figure that had been effectively camouflaged in the giant sweater he’d been wearing. Dang.

            “Hey neighbor.” Jolting in surprise, Steve nearly fell off the steps he’d been lounging on, eyes snapping open to see 1A standing on his balcony.

            “Oh. Uh, hi. Small world, seeing you here,” Steve said, pushing to his feet, highly conscious of the fact he was currently a probably alarming shade of red, and covered in sweat.

            “Yeah, pretty small odds, considering we both live here,” 1A grinned as he lifted his mug of coffee and took a drink. Chuckling, hoping his wheezing wasn’t audible from his patio three feet away, Steve gave into his wobbly legs and leaned against the iron railing of the apartment buildings front porch. Sadly, asthma was the one ailment he hadn’t grown out of.  

            When 1A continued to stand there, a far too gorgeous smile on that ridiculously handsome face, Steve contemplated escaping inside, but decided, what the hell. After that jog, he deserved a reward, and staring at the attractive guy downstairs certainly qualified. “So, how did the rest of Piranahconda treat you?”

            “It was pretty quality. But I have to say, when it comes to terribly fake carnage, it couldn’t compete with Dinocroc vs Supergator.”

            “Huh, I haven’t seen that one,” Steve mused, and even as 1A smiled, seeing the perfect opening, the moment was interrupted by a friendly, “Hey you!”

            Turning, 2B grinned a welcome at the female walking up the sidewalk. “Sharon, how’s it going? Just coming in from the night shift?”

            “Yeah, another long one.”

            “Well, I’ll be sure to keep the vacuuming to the minimum today, save the accordion music for tomorrow.”

            Sharon laughed aloud as she punched her code in the door. “Thanks! See you later.”

            “Bye.”

            “Night shift?” 1A questioned curiously when he turned back to him as the door swung closed.

            “Oh, yeah, Sharon’s a nurse, works nights. Hence why she was unavailable to provide me with fire last night, and I had to risk the stairs and potential attack by a cave creature from The Descent.”

            “Well, I can’t complain at being second best can I?”

            “Third actually,” Steve confessed. “Mr. Garcia didn’t answer either.”

            “Mr. Garcia, huh? The old guy across the hall?” When he shrugged, 1A stroked his chin thoughtfully. “So, you know everyone else in the building, but after nearly two months of living here, we’ve never met. Why’s that?” He watched, curiosity piqued even higher at the slightly rueful, entirely guilty expression that moved over the blond guys face.

            “Um. . . yeah. I actively avoiding meeting my downstairs neighbors. Kind of this thing I have.”

            “Okay, after a statement like that, you know you have to explain why, right?” He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

            “Honestly? If I have a face and a name to the poor person below me, I feel more guilty about my excessive vacuuming habits, practicing my dance moves all over the house, and the fact that my alarm goes off at 4:30 in the morning. And I snooze it three times.”

            1A laughed aloud. “Okay, that explains why I hear the alarm going off in what is basically still the middle of the night, but not why I hear you walking around that early if you keep snoozing it.”

            “Yeah, that’s because I put my alarm on the other side of the room, so I have to get out of bed to snooze it. The general idea being if I have to drag myself out of bed, I won’t want to snooze ten times, like I have in the past.”

            With that, 2B went from being interesting to frankly fascinating. Charmed, 1A grinned as he laughed at himself. “Then I guess I have to be grateful for the power outage that forced us to meet. I’m Bucky.”

            “Steve,” he offered, swiping his hand on his shorts before reaching out and meeting the outstretched hand that bridged the gap from the porch to his patio.

            “Steve? I like that.”

            “Um, thanks. It was a birthday present.” Steve actually felt himself blush, hoped it would be mistaken for exertion related color, and conscious of his still sweaty palms, tugged his hand back quickly. “Well, Bucky, it was nice to meet you, officially. I’ll see you around.”

            “Bye,” Bucky offered as Steve escaped inside, finished off his coffee. And concluded that living in this building was suddenly infinitely more interesting.

 

 

“So just how cute was this guy?” Natasha questioned as she watched Steve carefully wrapping up his latest painting for shipping. “Like, reasonably cute Owen Wilson in The Haunting, very good looking Hugh Jackman in X-men, or unreasonably attractive John Hamm in Mad Men?”

            Steve paused to consider the question, before meeting his best friends gaze and replied with all seriousness, “We’re talking Gerard Butler in 300 territory.”

            “Dang,” Natasha replied, a look of awe moving over her face.   “That’s a heck of an improvement over the last dude who lived down there with a ponytail that always smelled like patchouli. So, what’s your plan?”

            “Plan?” Steve echoed as he finished taping bubble wrap around the canvas.

            “Plan. To reel him in. He is single, isn’t he?”

            “Judging by the state of his kitchen, I would guess he was. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to reel him in. He’s my neighbor. I can’t try and date a neighbor.”

            “Why the hell not?” Natasha demanded, fists planting on her hips as she waited to hear this excuse. One she was sure was just as flimsy as the one Steve had used to explain why he couldn’t date the cute coffee barista. Or the guy from the video store that had asked him out. Or all the others that he’d successfully dodged, fended off, and avoided in the last two years.

            “Because what happens when it goes south? He knows exactly while I live-”

            “Most guys you date learn that eventually,” Natasha pointed out.

            “He’s right below me and would always hear what I was up to-”

            “He already does,” Natasha interjected rationally.

            “He could play his music really loud and keep me up all night if he was feeling like getting revenge-”

            “Steve, he’d probably already have done that if he was going to, in retaliation for you snoozing a million times at 4:30 in the morning.”

            When Steve made a contemplative face, unable to argue any of Natasha’s points, Natasha went in for the kill. “Seriously, I think you’re missing the genius of the idea. You are such a homebody anyways- yes, I know, just like me-” Natasha held his hands up when Steve shot her a look. “How perfect would it be to start dating a guy who’s already here? You’d never have to leave the house again. Just imagine it.”

            Startled into a laugh, Steve continued to snicker as he started carefully taping closed the box. “Okay, while you are painting a delightful picture with your words, the fact remains, I don’t even know if he’s single, or interested. Or, oh, I don’t know, _gay_. So it doesn’t really matter.”

            “Well then, I’d say we have a new mission. To find out.”

            Shaking his head with a smile, Steve glanced up at the knock on the door. “That must be the Chinese.”

            “I’ll grab it,” Natasha called as she headed towards the door, seeing the way Steve had managed to get the packing tape hopelessly tangled and stuck to itself, as well as to himself.

            Swinging the door open with an enthusiasm she reserved for those angels who brought sweet mana from heaven, aka delivery boys, Natasha blinked at the man who stood on the other side of the door, his expression as surprised as hers, his hands distinctly devoid of fried rice and General Tsao’s chicken. “You’re not Mr Kwan’s Golden Dragon delivery.”

            Bucky stared at the short, curvy redhead who was definitely not the tall, sculpted blonde he’d been expecting. “And you’re not 2B,” he replied, then considered quickly. “Unless you’re a roommate to 2B, which would make you 2B as well? Or, dear God, you could be a girlfriend. Please say you’re not a girlfriend.”

            A grin spread over Natasha’s face. “Not exactly. You must be Bucky,” she started, the question of his interest and sexual leanings at least put to rest.

            Just then Steve appeared in the hallway, wallet in hand, roll of packing tape stuck to his jeans. “I just found my coupon – oh. Hi. Bucky, what, uh, what are you doing here?”

            “Steve, hey. I brought up Dinocroc vs. Supergator, thought maybe we could watch it, get you caught up on the Dinocroc series. The third instalment it coming out soon, so time is of the essence.”

            “Oh. . . well, I-” Steve trailed off, his eyes going wide at the completely unexpected offer. He went to run a nervous hand through his hair, then sighed when he managed to get a dangling piece of tape that had been stuck to his arm now stuck to his hair. Bucky smiled charmingly.

            “But I can see you are tied up at the moment,” he chuckled, gesturing at the tape tangled around the blond, and admired how adorable Steve looked when he blushed, even as he fought to free his hair from the increasingly severe knot of tape. “So why don’t I leave this here with you, and you can watch it whenever you get the time, let me know what you think?”

            “Um, thanks-” When Steve continued to stand there looking flummoxed, Natasha rolled her eyes and took pity on her friend. Taking the DVD Bucky was holding out, Natasha gave him a smile and a conspirators wink.

            “I’ll make sure he gets right on that.”

            “Great.” Looking over his shoulder at the sound of the apartment building front door opening, Bucky watched as the man he assumed _was_ Mr. Kwan’s Golden Dragon delivery boy due to the giant brown bag balanced in his hands step in, and turned back. “Well, guess I better vacate the doorway. See you soon,” he smiled one last time before jogging down the stairs, leaving Natasha watching his very excellent butt until he swung into his own apartment, disappearing from view.

            “Well, well, well,” Natasha turned to Steve with a wide grin. “He’s no Chinese food delivery boy, but he does deliver bad sci-fi movies. If he’d brought fried rice, I’d have to say he’s absolutely perfect for you.” Steve groaned and clapped a hand over his eyes, then immediately regretted it when the packing tape stuck to his hair slapped across his face. An embarrassing encounter like this called for pot stickers, and he needed them immediately.  


	3. Chapter 3

So, Bucky may have timed it. As in, down to the minute timed it. With the stealth and precision of a Navy Seal operation. It _had_ been coincidence that he’d noted when the cute redheaded friend of his sexy blond neighbor had left, calling out a friendly farewell to Steve as she moseyed down the stairs. After all, the building had incredible acoustics, and incredibly thin walls. Sure, he might have peaked out his front window to see her actually drive away, but neighborhood watch encouraged that sort of thing. Constant vigilance, and all that.

            So maybe, Bucky had paid attention to the sound of the floor boards creaking above. And while he didn’t know the setup of Steve’s apartment, not having been fortunate enough to be invited inside, he thought it sounded like Steve had walked to a TV, then to a couch. If Bucky had promptly used his IMDB app to check exactly long Dinocroc vs. Supergator was, 127 minutes incidentally, he was just making use of modern technology, that’s all. It didn’t mean Steve was actually watching the DVD he’d loaned his. But Bucky could hope. And if he turned on Dinocroc vs. Robocroc exactly 128 minutes later, that could be brushed off as coincidence. Yet when he heard the unmistakable sound of feet clomping down the stairs, then hesitating before his door, he grinned.

            Standing in front of Bucky’s apartment, hand an inch away from knocking on the door, Steve sighed. Bit his lip. Dropped his hand. What was he doing?

            Well, that was obvious. He was returning the movie, that he had been unable to resist watching the instant Natasha had left for her work shift. It wasn’t obsessive or anything, the fact he’d already given the video a spin. No that was just being... prompt. No one liked borrowers who held onto borrowed items forever. See, he was being polite.

            Steve would just return the DVD, which he’d admittedly enjoyed the crap out of, and then that would be the end of it. No more reason to talk to his ridiculously attractive neighbor, and they could both go on living their lives the way they had been for the last several months. Separately. Resolutely, he lifted his hand again, checking his fist before it could make contact once more, the firm words Natasha had delivered before leaving playing in his mind.

            Granted, he’d missed some of it trying to pick the fried rice out of his hair after accidently flinging it around in unwilling amusement at Natasha’s impression of Tom Brady crying had his in hysterics. Fortunately, the tape had already been dealt with by that point. But he’d gotten the bullet points of Natasha’s speech loud and clear. About how Steve needed to get out of his comfort zone, give someone a chance, did he want to die a sad lonely old man with nothing but a large collection of porn keeping him company, etc etc.

            Dropping his hand, again, Steve sighed. It’s not that he disagreed with Natasha, on content or delivery. In theory. But putting himself back out there, he just didn’t know if he was ready for it. Which was irrelevant in this instant, he reminded himself. Just because the guy inhabiting below him had the most sinful mouth Steve had ever seen, or unexpectedly sexy waving dark hair that made Steve want to bury his hands in, it didn’t mean he was interested in Steve. Or men period.  

            “You’re just returning a movie,” he muttered to himself, and raised his hand, determined to knock and just get it over with. And nearly smacked Bucky in the forehead when the door unexpectedly swung open.

            “Mother Theresa!” Steve cried, jumping in shock even as Bucky ducked out of way of the fist swinging towards his face.

            Blinking at Bucky in surprise even as Bucky blinked at him, breath a bit ragged from the heart attack he’d almost just had, Steve felt his already stressed organ straight up miss a beat when the brunet beamed out one of those mega-wat grins. “Come on now, if you didn’t like the movie, you could have just told me. No need to beat me up for it!” he joked, raising his hands in a ‘don’t shot’ gesture.

            Staring, Steve had to give in and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “I take these things more serious than Ebert and Roeper. I don’t do thumbs down, I do high profile hits.”

            “Whew, good thing my will is up to date than.” Leaning against his door jamb, Bucky folded unfairly impressive arms over his unfairly sexy chest, and smiled at Steve. “So really, what did you think?”

            “It was great, I really liked it. It might even compete with my love of Frankenfish, which is saying something.” Staring up into ridiculously compelling eyes, a lighter shade blue than his own, Steve remembered abruptly his promise that he was just dropping off the DVD and making a run for it. Clearing his throat, he made to hand the disk back when Bucky swung away from the doorway and walked back into his apartment. Blinking, Steve stood there, when Bucky tossed over his shoulder, “I’m relieved to hear you like it, hopefully that hit will no longer be necessary. Come on it, I just started Dinocroc vs. Robocroc.”

            “Uh,” Steve started, about to give an excuse, like he had to go file his taxes, or feed a fish, or any reason at all not to give into temptation and watch a movie with the distractingly attractive man, when he was talking abruptly to empty air. Biting his lip, he looked back up the stairs, then back to the open doorway. It wasn’t like he was purposely prolonging the moment before they went back to their separate bubble of existence. He as just being polite. The way a good neighbor was supposed to be. Walking inside, he closed the door behind him, then blinked in surprise once more as he entered the kitchen. “Wow.”

            Perhaps the last time Steve had been in his place had been directly after a party. Or maybe Bucky was an international spy and his arch nemesis had broken in to search for the secret code. There had been a terrible battle, resulting the mess Bucky had picked through in search for a lighter. Either way, the kitchen was spotless. Turning from where he’d been grabbing a few sodas from the fridge, Bucky saw Steve’s wide eyed look and smiled to himself. So maybe he’d used some of those 128 minutes to clean. Just in case.

            Handing Steve a Coke, Bucky felt a little curl of warmth inside his chest, perhaps sooner was reasonable but one he had no desire to extinguish, moving through him at the sight of Steve blankly staring at the can. Bucky had seen the reluctance on Steve’s face when he’d arrived with the DVD earlier, and had correctly seen via the view through his peep hole that he’d been either pumping himself up or talking himself out of knocking on the door. Rather than giving Steve the choice to turn tail and run, Bucky had resolved the issue by just opening the door. Because he didn’t want Steve to run. He wanted Steve in his space, giving him that blushing smile. And he’d quickly worked out that things would progress much easier if he just steam rolled things along, rather than asking Steve and giving him the opportunity to say no.

            Bucky wasn’t the type of guy to force himself on anyone. Because hell, who wanted someone who didn’t want them in return? But he’d seen the wide eyed looks Steve had given him, and chose to believe the lingering gazes over his arms, his chest, his eyes, were looks of appreciation. It was that or Steve was terrified of Bucky, and Bucky wasn’t getting that vibe. Nervous sure, but Bucky could work with that. Heck, having Steve in his space, smelling of things like pine and sunshine, it made his stomach feel a little uneasy, in the best possible way. He hadn’t felt that fluttering sensation in longer than he cared to remember and he liked it. Wanted more of it. So, handing the man in question a soda and gently herding him towards the living room seemed like the best option for everyone.

            Wandering out of the kitchen because he was curious in spite of himself, Steve admired the movie posters Bucky had hanging, most of them of films he himself loved. “I have to say, it is nice to meet someone who had a similar appreciation for movies like I do-” he began, then felt his words cut off when he walked into the living room, and saw it for the first time. The TV that literally took up half a wall. A TV so large he didn’t know how Bucky had managed to fit it through the door. Taking up the other half of the wall were floor to ceiling shelves packed to the brim with DVDs. What had to be a thousand DVDs. Arranged, it appeared at first glance, with no organizational method he knew of yet there was something to the scheme that made Steve think there was an underlying order to the madness.

            Bucky watched, enjoying himself as Steve’s mouth fell open, slowly closed, then opened again. “I stand corrected. Your appreciation for movies is far beyond anything I, or any man alive, has ever experienced. How many do you _have?”_ he demanded, walking forward to get a closer look at the mind boggling collection.

            “I don’t know,” Bucky admitted, and he gave his head a little shake.

            “If it was me, I’d have an alphabetized excel spreadsheet to keep it all straight. I’m guessing you don’t,” he said, tossing him a look over his shoulder before reaching out for a copy of the Fifth Element. Bucky laughed.

            “Nope, afraid not. Although I’m prepared to be convinced of why I should,” he added, grinning winningly. Steve smiled back, before seeming to realize how close they were standing and took a guarded, protective little step back. Seeing it, Bucky’s grin didn’t dim, though he wondered at it. Was it more than just nerves that flickered quickly over that handsome face before he hid it by taking a sip of his Coke? Was Bucky reading this totally wrong, and Steve wasn’t interested in men period? His intuition hadn’t led him that astray in the past, but he wasn’t arrogant enough to assume it couldn’t happen now. Bucky hoped that wasn’t the case though. _Really_ hoped it wasn’t the case.

            “So. Uh, Dinocroc?”

            “Right. I paused it right at the beginning. Have a seat and we’ll get it going here.” Bucky considered it a victory when Steve slowly moved to the couch and sat on the very far end of it, stiffly, but sat there all the same. Small steps, he reminded himself. Assuming Steve wasn’t tragically straight, if there was another reason for the fine vibration of tension in the taller man’s body, Bucky could afford to be patient. Bucky didn’t know Steve well yet, but something told him, Steve was worth waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what I have so far... I have ideas for where this is headed, but kudos and positive comments are really awesome and inspirational in terms of motivating me to keep going! *hint hint :) * If you've enjoyed it up to this point, I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

An hour and thirty minutes later Bucky considered it a much larger victory when Steve had curled comfortably into the cushions, one knee drawn up as he gestured broadly while effusing over the dynamic battle between the genetically and mechanically enhanced crocodiles.

            “I have to say, I really think given the choice, I think nature will win over machine. Instincts, you can’t _build_ those into a mechanical device,” Steve stated seriously, before catching the way Bucky grinned widely at him. And immediately felt a little ridiculous. Feeling himself blushing, and cursing his fair skinned ancestors who had burdened him with such an unfortunate genetic habit, Steve rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he let out a little awkward chuckle. “Sorry, I, uh, really get into dissecting plot. Even over something as obviously ridiculous as sci-fi channel movies.”

            Bucky quickly shook his head even as he chuckled, enjoying probably far more than was nice just how freaking _cute_ Steve was embarrassed. Because while Bucky undeniably found Steve sexy, and seriously, who wouldn’t, he found himself becoming more charmed by just how freaking sweet, shy and a bit dorky Steve was. It was such a contrast with the Adonis-like physicality of the man, it was fascinating Bucky intensely. Not that he had any problem with it. Watching the movie with Steve, enjoying it all the more for all the exclamations, comments, and random questions Steve had posed through the length of the film had only confirmed Bucky liked this guy. A lot. And he was happy to see Steve actually relax in Bucky’s presence, for the first time.

            “Seriously, I’m the same way. My friends threatened to ban me from poker and pizza night if I tried to explain the underlying themes of Yeti, Curse of the Snowman one more time. I’m not sure how, since we hold poker night _here_ , but those are my friends for you. Honestly, now that I know someone who appreciates these like I do, you’re not going to be able to shake me loose.”

            At that, Steve’s blush deepened, even as his smile did the same, and Bucky wrapped his hand a little tighter around his can of Coke to resist reaching out and gliding fingertips along the frankly ridiculous jaw line. Trying to warm Steve up to him was one thing – groping was another. _Down Bucky,_ he cautioned himself even as he couldn’t resist shifting just the tiniest bit closer to Steve. “So, what do you think, you down for Mega Shark vs Crocosaurus?” Watched Steve take a measured breath, before that hesitant smile returned.

            “Depends. Got any popcorn to go with it?”

            Jumping up with a grin, Bucky curled a stand of hair behind his ear, noted the way those blue eyes traced the action. “Popcorn, coming right up.”

 

 

Okay, so maybe Steve’s mission of simply returning a disc had turned into a nearly all night movie marathon. There was nothing wrong with that. Who said he couldn’t make friends with his neighbor? And watch a string a fantastically bad movies until nearly three am. When the screen had scrolled through the end credits of Sharktopus, both men were completely oblivious as they continued to talk, like they had been through the last several movies. Making friends was a _good_ thing. Steve had a lot of friends, and even more friendly acquaintances, but being the sociable type, he was always happy to expand that circle. So the idea of being friends with Bucky – it was a _good_ thing.

            What he hadn’t expected was how easy it had been, once he’d forgotten to feel shy and just talked to the other man. They gone from discussing the obvious parallels between Frankenfish and the tragic condition of leprosy, to discussing their lives, their pasts, their interests. Steve had been equally shocked and delighted to discover Bucky had grown up in Brooklyn too, though he’d lived just far enough away they’d fallen into different school districts.

            “Man, that’s nuts. Just think, we could have met like, twenty years ago,” Bucky had said, with such an honest enthusiasm in his voice, Steve had grinned, laughed, and shook his head.

            “Honestly, even if we had, you wouldn’t recognize me between then and now.”

            Bucky quirked an eyebrow. “What, you walked around in disguise back in the day? Lived out a childhood dream of being a pirate or something?”

            Steve couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter at that. “Not exactly. I was a lot smaller back then.”

            “Most people are smaller at eight,” Bucky said seriously, as though he was imparting some great piece of wisdom. Steve rolled his eyes, gave Bucky a little shove that had the brunet grinning again.

            “I know that, jerk. No, I mean, I was pretty sick as a kid. Real skinny, a list of medical problems longer than my arm. I didn’t really, you know, get out much.”

            At that, Bucky’s eyes went softer, but there was no trace of pity in his voice when he asked, “But you’re doing better now, right? Everything’s fine?” And that. That right there was the problem. Because while, again, Steve was delighted to make a friend, particularly with someone he got along with as easily and instantly as he had Bucky, there was the little matter of the distinctly unfriendly feelings he’d had towards Bucky. Or was it, extra friendly? Regardless, when Bucky would throw his head back and laugh loudly, or bite frequently at his bottom lip when he grinned, and now, showing actual concern over Steve’s wellbeing – it was throwing a serious wrench in Steve’s ‘let’s be friends’ plan. Because he seriously wanted to haul the other man in and kiss the frankly heartwarming expression of genuine concern right off Bucky’s face. But Steve didn’t do that, because he knew himself. He knew relationships, or hell, even just random make-out sessions on someone’s couch, were not his forte. _Keep it cool, Rogers,_ he berated himself before realizing an actual response was appropriate.

            “Yeah, I am. Still have to monitor a couple things, but I’m doing way better.” Abruptly, Steve realized he and Bucky were facing each other on the couch, knees nearly touching, Bucky’s arm draped over the back of the cushions, and if Steve leaned into it just the slighted bit, that hand would graze against his shoulder. So Steve, of course, completely overreacted by resisting doing just that and instead jumped up awkwardly. He watched Bucky blink up at him in surprise.

            “Hey, it’s getting pretty late. I better give your couch space back to you, head up to my own place,” Steve rushed out the words, like the human disaster. Bucky’s eyes flick to the clock before he looked startled at the time and got to his own feet.

            “Man, I didn’t realize how late it was. Yeah, that’s cool. Thanks for hanging out, it’s been a good time,” Bucky spoke as he moved with Steve towards the front door, paused as he pulled it open and smiled warmly. “We’ll have to do it again soon.”

            “Definitely,” Steve replied, and it wasn’t a exactly lie. He wanted to. Tomorrow, the day after, maybe right now. But. He also wanted to pin Bucky to the door and kiss the hell out of him, so his wants weren’t always practical. And with that, he’d jogged up the stairs, narrowly missed biffing it on the last one, and retreated into the safety of his own apartment. Where he’d managed to grab a few hours of sleep, worked rather unenthusiastically on a painting for a majority of the day, and now was unsuccessfully multitasking by attempting to fend off a lecture from Natasha while cooking dinner. The cooking was going vastly better than the fending. But, given Nat’s interrogation skills, he wasn’t surprised. Resigned, vaguely depressed, and slightly cranky, but not surprised.

            Not for the first time he wondered if Nat literally was some sort of spy, something he’d accused her of more than once, considering she could never tell him what her job was other than to say it was confidential security work. Which to him sounded like a evasive way of phrasing James Bond’s job description. Regardless, she used years of practice to pull the tale of previous night out of him. And now was methodically picking it apart.

            “So let me recap here,” Nat said, completely ignoring the heavy sigh Steve let out. “You ended up spending like, seven hours with this guy. Who’s completely a babe and obviously into you, and you didn’t get his number. Or a kiss. Or a I dunno, dry humping on the couch.”

            Lifting the lid on his rice, Steve gave it a few stirs. Replaced the lid. “Nat, that’s not-” he paused. Sighed again. Realigned his thoughts because he couldn’t lie about not wanting to dry hump since she’d use her super spy powers and see through that in a second. “I don’t even know if he’s interested. I’m not going to just pounce on him.”

            “Trust me, he interested,” Natasha insisted with authority.

            “You can’t know that. Besides-” Steve carried on before she could do more than make an annoyed noise. “I just, I don’t think I’m ready. Dating, or dry humping on a couch… I just don’t… I don’t know Nat.”

            This time, silence met him, and Steve took advantage to focus on turning over the chicken he had sautéing in a sauce pan.

            “Listen. Steve.” Her voice was unexpectedly soft, unusually kind, and he instantly knew that was no good. “I know that Rumlow did a number on your confidence. But when are you going to listen to me when I tell you, everything that happened was _his_ fault, not yours. He was a selfish prick who cheated, and you did nothing to deserve that. You are an amazing, fun, attractive guy, and any normal man would be so lucky and happy to be with you.” Yup. That was no good. Steve _knew_ Natasha meant it for the best, and furthermore, actually _meant_ what she said. But a life time of insecurities only reinforced by the one long term adult relationship ending in heartbreak didn’t really leave him predisposed to believe what she said was true. And definitely not in regards to the flat-out beautiful Bucky.

            Before he could argue back, or just make noises of agreement that they would both know were a lie, Steve was saved from having to answer by the knock on the door. “Oh, hey, someone’s at the door. I’ll call you back later.”

            “You better, or else, Rogers,” were her vaguely ominous last words as he hung up the phone, shoved it in his pocket. Making a note to follow through, because he didn’t want _her_ to follow through on the unknown but menacing threats her tone conjured, Steve jerked his door open. And then promptly forgot everything. Because here he was.

            “Bucky.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, all your comments super inspired me to churn out another chapter! Fear not, Bucky will be working on getting around Steve's insecurities. We shall see how successful that endeavor is :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! Sorry for the delay, things have been crazy, my brain churned out an new fic idea, and there was nothing for it but to start writing that new story. Spoiler alert, it's a Stucky vampire au. Anywho, here's the next chapter!

“Hey Steve. Spare some sugar for a neighbor in need?” Bucky drawled, and okay, God knew the line was cheesy as hell. The follow up maneuver of licking his bottom lip before biting it as he smiled at Steve, was also completely shameless. All of which was perfectly fine with Bucky, so long as he got the results he wanted. He let his smile widen when those incredible blue eyes that were wide with surprise dropped down to his mouth. Bucky watched the pupils expand, Steve’s own lips parting slightly. Ah, sweet success.

            “I, uh…” Steve stuttered out, and Bucky struggled manfully to keep his smile from tripping over into smug as he arched a brow and lifted a hand, twirled the metal measuring cup looped over his finger. He had the delight of watching Steve blush. “Oh. Right, of course. Um, yeah no problem.”

            When Steve continued to stand there, Bucky sighed internally, wondered how he’d had such a freaking adorable guy living above him this whole time and never known. He could have been teasing blushes out of the blond for months now. And hopefully given him plenty of kisses to make up for the teasing. Bracing himself on the door jamb when Steve made no motion to move, Bucky leaned in the slightest bit. Watched those gorgeous eyes go darker. Subtly breathed in the smell of the other man, Bucky wanted to moan at the scent of him, because damn, Steve smelled as sexy as he looked. Before he sniffed more obviously, catching another aroma that had his mouth literally watering. “Oh man, what is _that_?”

            Panic jumped into Steve’s face as he cried, “My chicken!” and bolted from the doorway, presumably back to his kitchen and whatever was wafting out what Bucky could only believe was the precise scent of heaven. Blinking, Bucky shrugged before letting himself in, politely closing the door behind him before wandering into the apartment. Peaking curiously into the bedroom to his right, noting the rigorously clean bathroom straight ahead, he then turned left into the kitchen dining combo that matched his own. In layout at least. The smells of culinary nirvana currently pervading the room were a far cry from the diet of Hungry Man meals and pizza he tended to survive on. Walking closer to peak curiously over Steve’s shoulder, Bucky shook his head at what looked like a meal off of Top Chef or something.

            “Man, do you eat like this every night? Or are you expecting someone and I’m crashing your party?” Bucky questioned, noting the way Steve lightly jolted, clearly too preoccupied in saving his poultry to remember Bucky was around. Bucky couldn’t blame him – for whatever was simmering away in that saucepan, he’d neglect human interaction in a heartbeat.

            Feeling a laugh startled out of him, Steve shook his head. “No party. I just like to cook.” He watched Bucky turn those large eyes on him, the shape of them going both forlorn and pleading all at once. Steve swallowed at the fluttering the look caused in his chest. “Do you, ah, want to stay for dinner?”

            “Hell yes,” Bucky replied emphatically, loving the chuckle that drew out as Steve stirred several pans at once with a skill Bucky admired and didn’t share in the slightest.

            “Well then you have good timing. We’re nearly ready here, I’ll just need to set the table.”

            “Please, allow me. Where are your plates?” Bucky questioned as he set the measuring cup down on the counter.

            “Cupboard above the sink,” Steve replied.

            He grinned at Bucky’s jaunty little “Ay ay captain.” In a matter of minutes the two had plates dished, and Bucky was forking the first bite into his mouth. He didn’t even try to hold back the resulting groan. “Oh my _God_. Steve. This is amazing. Are you a chef or something?” he questioned in all seriousness, as Steve sat back, happily watching Bucky enjoy the food.

            “Nope. I just like food, and decided if I’m going to eat, I’d rather eat something good. So, I figured it out.”

            “No training, nothing?” Bucky said in surprise, as he scooped up more truly divine rice.

            “Nah. Just googled a lot of recipes.”

            “Well, I admire your skill. Mine pretty much ends at omelets or grilled cheese,” Bucky admitted, watched Steve smirk.

            “Breakfast and dinner of champions,” he teased. Bucky nodded solemnly.

            “They’ve made me the man I am today. So, okay, you’re not a master chef in your work hours. What do you do?” he questioned curiously, the subject not having been brought up the night before.

            “Well, I paint a bit. Used to do some part-time work to pay the bills, but now this pretty much is my full time job,” Steve admitted, looking a bit shy at the confession. Bucky stared at him before turning to take in the artwork that adorned the walls of the kitchen. He’d been too busy having a religious experience over the food earlier to pay them much mind, but now looking, he saw the paintings were amazing.

            “No shit. Did you paint these?” he questioned.

            “Well, occasionally I think some of them are shit,” Steve laughed. “But yeah, that’s my work.”

            Bucky was tempted to get up from the table to take a closer look at the truly impressive art, but was too invested in delivering the food from his plate to his mouth, so he promised himself he’d take a closer look once the meal was over. That didn’t stop him from saying, his voice utterly sincere, “Steve, you’re incredibly talented. That’s awesome you’re able to make a living doing what you obviously love.”

            Shifting uncomfortably, clearly ill equipped to handle the praise, Steve managed to deflect quickly. “Thanks. But what about you, what do you do? If you don’t mind me asking.”

            Mind? Hell, Bucky was thrilled at the sign of interest from Steve, and had to restrain himself from giving the unabridged life story of Bucky out of pure enthusiasm. Tipping back his chair, happily full now that his plate was cleaned and he was resisting begging for seconds, he smiled easily at Steve. “Nothing as creative as being a painter. My buddy Clint and I actually run a business together. We do technical security, help corporations keep their computer systems secure, that sort of thing.” Alright, he couldn’t lie, seeing the way those gorgeous blue eyes lit up, looking fascinated, it was a stroke to Bucky’s ego.

            “Wow. How did you get into that?” Steve questioned, unconsciously leaning closer, arms folded on the table before him, and it was all Bucky could do not to meet him halfway, kiss the intrigued smile on those frankly pretty lips. _Easy, Barnes_.

            “It actually began as a college project,” he admitted with a little laugh, amused as he always was when he recalled the start of what would become their career. “Our assignment was to create security software for a hypothetical business. But Clint, being the overachieving deviant he was, said why don’t we hack a real business, and then show them the weak points in their security infrastructure, and how to fix them. I thought he was crazy. So of course I was in.” Loving the way Steve let out his own laugh, Bucky grinned back at him.

            “God, I don’t think we got any sleep for three weeks straight, living on coffee and pop-tarts. But we did it, and when we showed it to our professor, she couldn’t decide whether to give us an A for the semester or file a police report for our illegal activities. Fortunately, she went with the first choice, and after we both finally showered and shaved, looked a little more presentable, we took it to the company. They also looked like they wanted to have us arrested, but decided to hire us instead. And the rest is history.”

            “Seriously. That is way more impressive than painting. At the very least, more bad ass,” Steve said, rolling his eyes when Bucky gave a modest little shrug, not buying the humble act for a second.

            “Well, I’m a firm believer we should all play to our strengths. You make incredible art, and food by the way, seriously dinner was phenomenal, and I hack into stuff. But, you know, that’s not all I’m good at,” he added, lowering his voice just a fraction, leaning in just a hint. And he knew he wasn’t imagining the way Steve’s eyes flicked down to his mouth for the barest instant before flicking back up. Letting the moment hang, as Steve clearly was considering just that else he was proficient in, Bucky finally broke the tension. “I’m also a champion dishwasher. Which I will be proving to you now.”

            Up before Steve could do more than blink, Bucky began clearing their plates away, started running hot water in the sink. Finally Steve caught up enough to protest, “No, Bucky, I’ll take care of it-” before Bucky cut him off by simply lifting a brow before he dug under the sink, made a sound of triumph when he found the dish soap.

            “I don’t think so. The cook doesn’t clean – Barnes’ family rules,” he replied cheerfully, and saw the way Steve grinned. Steve moved over next to him and grabbed a towel, shrugging at the narrowed look Bucky sent his way.

            “Hey, least I can do is dry.”

            “Anyone ever tell you you’re a stubborn guy, Steve?” Bucky questioned, nudging the blond with an elbow. He nearly sighed at the rock hard muscle he came into contact with. Seriously, Steve was just too cute, and freaking sexy, for his own good.

            Steve snorted. “Probably as often as you’ve been told the same.” Well, he had Bucky there. Rinsing off a plate before handing it over, Bucky conceded with a nod.

            “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like that about you,” Bucky said, noting the flush that crawled up the back of Steve’s neck before he busied himself drying. Seriously. So damn cute. Taking mercy on the clearly shy man though, Bucky kept up an easy chatter as they cleaned up the kitchen. And he couldn’t lie with himself about how perfect it felt. Something as simple as just straightening up after enjoying a meal together – it was pretty wonderful. He couldn’t help but imagining just how wonderful it would be to spend every evening that way. Too much, too soon, he knew, but Bucky was a romantic at heart. And everything he’d seen and learned about Steve so far made him think this was the kind of guy he could be with.

            Eyes falling on the small rainbow flag magnet on the fridge next to the sink, Bucky smiled to himself. Decided to take his campaign to the next level, make his own interest a little more clear, just in case Steve hadn’t already figured it out. Nodding at the magnet to catch Steve’s attention, Bucky kept his tone light and friendly as he asked, “Hey, I heard Portland throws a pretty good Pride parade. Have you been?”

            He saw the moment of tension in that large frame, before Steve visibly relaxed, though he didn’t meet Bucky’s open gaze. “Yeah, it’s really gotten some good traction in the last several years.”

            “That’s great. I always went to the one back home, I look forward to seeing how Portland’s stacks up.” At that, Steve’s eyes flickered to him, as though he couldn’t help himself. Keeping his expression warm, encouraging, Bucky was pleased to see the hesitant smile tug at Steve’s lips. “It’s in a few weeks, if I remember right. Maybe I’ll see you there?”

            The slight smile bloomed, Steve’s expression clear of all hesitation now. “Yeah. That would be great.”

            When the silence lengthened, Bucky elbowed Steve once more. “Unless we’re still waiting for you to finish drying that plate by then.”

            Laughing, Steve glanced at the plate he’d been holding, dripping for the last few minutes. “Can’t have that,” he said, and finishing up, he stretched to put it away in the cupboard. Closing it, Steve turned, and nearly ran into Bucky who was planted directly in his path. Maybe it was the proximity, maybe it was the subject matter they’d just been discussing, and the realization Bucky was at worst, LGBT friendly, at best perhaps gay himself. Or maybe it was just how gorgeous Bucky looked, his expression unguarded. Whatever the cause, Steve found himself leaning in, wanting their lips to meet.

            Yet when he heard the slight sound of Bucky’s breath catch at the motion, and his brain finally caught up with his body, Steve stopped himself, jerked back an instant before he could initiate the kiss that he was already regretting going for. _Shit_ , he thought, flush riding harder in his cheeks as he realized what he’d been about to do. Seeing Bucky blink up at him in surprise, Steve could only be grateful there was no disgust on that face. Only confusion – probably wondering why Steve had taken his friendly gesture and nearly ruined it.   Stepping back, he ran a hand over the back of his neck, cleared his throat awkwardly.

            “Um, thanks for the help. But I actually have to uh, go. So, yeah.”

            Blinking, Bucky shook his head slightly, taking his own step back. “Right, of course. Well, um, thanks for dinner. I guess I’ll see you later,” he spoke, turning to the doors. Turning back just as quickly when Steve said his name.

            “Uh, Bucky? Don’t you still want that sugar?”

            Looking down at the measuring cup Steve held out, Bucky felt a wry smile twist his mouth, grabbing it while being careful not to brush Steve’s skin in the process. “Thanks, but I’m good. Don’t think I need it after all.” Giving Steve a slight wave, he let himself out, quietly closing the door after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yet again they can't get it together! These boys, both so clueless. I'm sorry, I just can't help myself. But please stay tuned for the next chapter, where after some much needed friendly intervention, Steve and Bucky both finally admit their feelings, and any confusion is cleared up! As always, if you like what you've read, kudos and comments make me so happy! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! So exciting, this fic had reached over 100 kudos! *grinning like a giant dork* That milestone has me super happy, and inspired me to churn out another chapter. Without further ado, let's get straight to it!

“’Ragin’ Cajun Redneck Gators’,” Clint read off the front of the DVD case, before looking up at Bucky with an expression that was truly pained. “Seriously. Bucky, where do you _find_ these things?”

            “Hey, it might not have gotten an Oscar nomination, but that’s a legitimate cinematic adventure. Way better than the title would lead you to believe.”

            “If I lie and pretend to believe you, can I avoid a PowerPoint presentation where you try to prove your point? Because I’m still recovering from the Yeti Curse of The Snowman lecture you’ve given a thousand times.”

            “It wasn’t a thousand times-” Bucky defended himself. Ignored the disgruntled _“Felt like it,”_ Clint muttered under his breath. “It was ten. Fifteen _tops_. And it’s not my fault you have no taste in movies and can’t appreciate the compelling thematic devices utilized so skillfully in sci-fi channel films.”

            Shaking his head, Clint replaced the case, and continued his perusal of Bucky’s movies, while Bucky was doing some last minute straightening of his house. Clint had _said_ he wanted to come over and held Bucky set up for the party, by which he apparently meant get a jump start on the beer and criticize his best friend’s motion picture preferences. Bucky had simply sighed, insisting it wasn’t a party. Parties were for college age frat bros, and while he’d had his fair share of exactly that back in college with Clint, when they weren’t busy hacking into businesses that is, that chapter was one he preferred to keep firmly closed. Instead, he liked to call it a get together. Much more mature. Fitting of his grown up apartment, his move into it the motivation to very adult-esque gathering.

            True, most people didn’t hold a housewarming party – no, gathering, housewarming _gathering_ \- two months after moving in, but Clint and he had been neck deep in a job with a company who was experiencing a serious cyber threat to their security and had barely had a chance to come up for air. Besides, if he was providing the venue, some good music, and plenty of beer, his friends weren’t the type to quibble over congregating semantics. He could call it a “Hurray for August Soirée” and they’d still come.

            Regardless, Bucky enjoyed the company from Clint, insults or no. He’d been feeling the effects of too much alone time lately, too much time to think about things he definitely didn’t care to think about. And if anything could provide a distraction from that, it was Clint.

            “So the hot, stacked blond is showing up to the party, right?” Bucky, who was in the process of pouring a bag of Cheetos into a bowl, paused, cast his eyes upwards, sighed heavily. Or not.

            “It’s not a party. It’s a get-together. Gathering. Rendezvous, if you like.”

            Unimpressed, Clint cocked a brow. “Dude. You’re making Totino’s pizza rolls. Call it whatever you want, it’s a party.”

            Apparently it was Bucky’s turn to do the muttering. “I like pizza rolls,” he replied, trying to keep his tone from tipping over into petulant. And failing miserably. Still. Criticizing his admittedly esoteric film tastes was one thing, but bashing Totino’s – not cool. Granted, for his very grown up gathering, he might have pulled something fancier than he spread he now looked at with critical eyes and realized was exactly the same food he had provided at his college day parties. But there was nothing wrong with that, he thought defensively. He liked junk food. Everyone liked junk food. Just because Steve could probably have whipped up fancy hor d’eouvres that were works of art – and fuck. Bucky was thinking about Steve again. Thanks a lot Clint.

            It was the one thing he’d been trying not to do for three days. And completely bombing at for three days, meaning Clint’s untimely reminder was fairly irrelevant, but still. Bucky would rather blame his friend that admit even to himself he was too pathetic to keep his mind off how he’d crashed and burned the other night. “Hell with it,” he grumbled, before grabbing his own beer, twisting the top off and taking a long swig.

            “So I’m taking that as a no?” Clint stated perceptively, returning doggedly to the previous line of questioning, eyes penetrating as he took a leisurely sip of his own beer. Bucky wondered for the millionth time how a man who could never seem to get his hands on two matching socks was so damn discerning. The man saw everything.

            “That’s a no,” Bucky agreed, unwillingly. But if he didn’t give in and respond, he knew from extensive experience Clint would simply chip away at his will until there was no resisting. Better to get it over with. Like a Band-Aid. Before the rest of his friends arrived and saw the morose expression he couldn’t help wearing at just the thought of the hot stacked blond. It was pretty embarrassing.

            “Because he’s got something _better_ to do that attend your frat party masquerading as a super mature get-together?” Clint questioned, his outrage only half pretend. Clint hadn’t met this dream boat yet, but still, no matter how hot he really was, there was no excuse to leave Clint’s best friend and business partner hanging.

            “I have no idea. Although probably. But it doesn’t matter because I didn’t invite him.”

            At this, Clint lowered the bottle he’d been raising, the better to gape in shock. “Why the hell not? Weren’t you already picking out wedding invitations?”

            Okay, Bucky kind of deserved that. Although he definitely hadn’t been checking out stationary of any kind. But still. When Bucky had practically come floating in to work the day after meeting Steve, Clint had taken one look at him and insisted he spill the deets. And being the swooning romantic that he was, Bucky had, explaining in minute detail just how freaking cute Steve was. And how he intended the ask him out, romance the crap out of him, etc etc. While Clint had made gagging noises for form, stating that anyone who thought Mega Python vs Gatoroid was a great first date movie choice was hardly qualified to romance anyone, he’d been happy for Bucky. Encouraged him to make a move. Which is exactly what Bucky had done. And apparently horrified Steve in the process.

            Sighing as he remembered it in all too vivid detail, Bucky shoved a hand through his hair. He burned with embarrassment even now at how completely he’d misread the situation. But really, who could blame him? The dinner with Steve, the conversation, even the cleaning up afterwards, it had all felt so perfect. So easy and right. As thought they’d been doing it forever. Would be doing it forever. And so without even realizing his own intentions, he’d boxed the blond in. Unthinkingly leaned in, intent on nothing more than their smiles touching. Bucky had only realized what he was doing far too late to stop himself, because Steve had already been jerking back. A look of horror, and then, worse, distress chasing over that handsome face.

            Bucky understood in an instant that the worst had occurred. He’d completely misread the situation. Despite the hope his magnets had given Bucky, Steve was _obviously_ not interested, and Bucky had made an ass of himself. Made all the more evident when Steve basically showed him the door, with a lie about having to go. Bucky, being pathetic enough to listen, had definitely noticed the heavy footsteps on the floor above, which hadn’t left the apartment until the next morning.

            “Turns out he’s not interested,” Bucky finally said, another heavy sigh escaping him. At this Clint’s brow furrowed, disbelief evident.

            “Dude’s don’t hang out with other dudes until 3 am if they’re not interested,” Clint stated firmly. Appreciated how that startled a snorting laugh out of his friend, although he was being completely serious.

            “Clint, you do that with me all the time. And I know you’re not interested,” Bucky grinned.

            “Well, you do have a superior ass that I’m not too hetero to admire or admit, but you’re right, I’m not interested. However, I do like to mooch off you for your beer and your Domino’s reward points. Somehow I don’t think that was Blondie’s angle.”

            Before Bucky could argue the case further, which was truly just down right depressing, trying to convince someone he wasn’t wanted, he was saved by the first influx of friends, Sam and Rhodey arriving with jovial back slaps and exclamations about his fancy new digs. Bucky failed to notice the way Clint stealthily slipped out the door.

            Heading up the stairs, resolution firm, Clint knocked with authority at the door directly above Bucky’s. While Clint might not ever be interested in dating Bucky, that probably had more to do with the fact they’d been friend since kindergarten, and he’d seen Bucky eat glue on a dare, than his sexual leanings. Regardless, he knew Bucky was a good thing, and so if Bucky wanted the cute blond upstairs, well Clint would be the wingman Bucky would never admit he needed. Clint would damn well get Mr 2B to the party where the two could get their shit together, or he wasn’t worthy of the title best friend.

            Yet when the door swung open, it wasn’t a tall stacked blond who blinked at him in surprise. It was a short incredibly curved redhead. And taking in the vision more beautiful than any woman, or hell, pizza, he’d ever seen before, Clint’s quickly yet excellently formulated script fell straight of his head.

            When he just stared there, mouth hanging open, the redhead’s elegant brows pulled together. “You’re not India’s Palace delivery,” she stated, the tone vaguely accusatory. And Clint was in love.

            “Indian food? I can do that. I’ll get you all the Indian food. Whatever you want. Food, a dog. Maybe a jet ski. Who doesn’t love jet skis?”

            At this, those brows raised high, and she blinked at him in shock before smiling, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned in the door jamb. He may not be bearing her dinner of chicken Tikka Masala, but the show had enough entertainment value for her to forgive the lack.

            “Well. That’s very generous of you. And you would be?”

            You’re future husband is what Clint _wanted_ to say, but even he knew that might be going slightly overboard. Didn’t want to ruin this first impression. Wave runners were a much safer bet. “Right. Sorry. Clint.”

            “Hello Clint. And what brings you to this particular door this evening?”

            At this, Clint smacked the side of his head, rolling his eyes at himself, before huffing out a breath. “Focus in, Barton. _Wingman_. Bro duties first, fun second.” Watching that truly gorgeous mouth curve into a wider grin, he nearly lost focus again, but managed to keep it together. “So listen, my buddy downstairs, Bucky? He’s got a thing for the guy who lives here. Tall, blond, apparently more adorable than ten puppies? Anyways, we’re having a party down stairs, and I wanted to invite him so those crazy kids can get it together”

            “Well. I have to say, I like the way you think Clint. As you obviously can see, we’re waiting on a delivery, so that’s going to happen first. But from one wingman to another, I can promise he’ll be down there tonight.”

            “Great. That’s great. But, you know, you’ll want to make sure he’s comfortable. So it’s probably best if you come along. That way he’ll feel more at ease, and more receptive to romance and all that.”

            She considered, a mock expression of seriousness on her face. “So you’re saying… I should come to a party for the sake of my friend’s potential relationship?”

            “Exactly. Absolutely. Think of their future kids, beautiful lady who’s name I have yet to learn. Do it for the kids.”

            “Well in that case, I guess I’ll be seeing you soon.” With that, she graced him with one last little smirk. Before closing the door in his face. Grinning widely, Clint rocked back on his heels, before shoving his hands in his pockets and jogging back down the stairs, joining Maria, Thor and Tony as they poured inside Bucky’s apartment. Tonight was going to be a very good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clintasha. I ship it hard. Anywho, stay tuned to the next chapter where Steve and Bucky finally get things sorted, and maybe even, at long last, a kiss?? I know, I know, I promised they were going to discuss their feelings this chapter, but things happen! As always, your kudos and comments make me so happy, and definitely inspire me to keep writing. This is the first lengthy work in progress I've published, rather than posting a completed story all at once, and I've been very much enjoying going on this adventure with you guys :D


	7. Chapter 7

“I hate you. Seriously. I really do. Have I ever told you that before?” Steve hissed at Natasha, who rolled her eyes, busy scoping out the scenery laid out before them in a moving tableau.

            “At least once a week,” she replied absently, giving him an equally preoccupied pat on the shoulder. Which he seriously resented. He had a foot in height on his diminutive friend, and more than double the weight. He should _not_ be easily ignored. Especially when he was making a point she was point blank disregarding.

            “Well, it’s true at least once a week,” he muttered, more to himself than anything because he was aware he’d lost her attention the second she’d gotten what she’d wanted. And he, the naïve, far too trusting guy he was, had fallen for her ploy. He _should_ have seen it coming, when she’d casually been cleaning up the dishes from their dinner, and oh so breezily asked if he minded helping her grab something from her car. Nonchalant. Off handed. He should have seen right through it. Particularly when she’d stopped him first, messed with his hair while he just stared at her in baffled confusion until she was satisfied with the results. _Especially_ when she’d insisted on going down with him, stating he couldn’t handle it on his own.

            And Steve, sweet, trusting Steve, had thought she’d been referring to some furniture she’d sweet talk him into rehabbing for her. It wouldn’t be the first time. But no. Apparently the “it” that Steve couldn’t handle, was his own love life. Because the instant Steve had been walking past Bucky’s door, steadfastly ignoring the sounds of revelry and laughter, less successfully ignoring the pang he felt hearing it, she’d moved. Reached behind him to throw open the door, then with a hip bump and a helpful shove, sent Steve flying sideways, straight into the apartment. Where he’d nearly collided with a tray of pizza rolls of all things, before he righted himself and glared at the person he now knew could not possibly be his best friend, while also fighting down immediate and overwhelming panic.

            “What the hell?” he’d hissed, making to immediately step around Natasha to beat an instant retreat, when she pinned him with her own glare, so effective and intimidating he’d resentfully desisted, awkwardly trying not to make eye contact with anyone crowded into the kitchen. Seriously, with her scowl of menace and elbows of doom, she _had_ to be doing some sort of covert work for the government. Civilians just didn’t develop those kind of skills.

            “Just giving you a helping hand,” she’d replied, scanning the room once she’d been satisfied he wouldn’t make a run for it.

            “With what, making even more of a fool of myself? I don’t really need help with that,” he spoke out of the side of his mouth, when a guy with a gap in his teeth and a friendly smile gave him a nod while reaching past Steve to get to the pizza rolls.

            This wasn’t something he’d thought he should have to explain. After all, Natasha knew exactly how bad he’d blown things with Bucky several nights ago. Because Steve had immediately called her afterwards and confessed every excruciating detail, hoping that the second time around, it wouldn’t seem so bad. Tragically, if anything, it had seemed worse. Particularly when Natasha had listened to his tale of woe silently, before muttering in Russian, then announcing he was an idiot. Which he already knew, but he had the feeling she thought this for different reasons.

            None the less, she’d shown up tonight, with a bottle of her best vodka and promises to comfort him with food, like a true friend. When he’d grinned and asked if she was going to cook for him, unquestionably a first, she’d sent him a narrowed look. “Don’t push your luck, Rogers. Delivery is more my speed. Take it or leave it.” Steve had been happy to take it. Grateful for the company to distract him from the glum state he’d been existing in for the last three days. Even more grateful when she’d considerately steer clear of the sensitive subject. He’d had no idea it was because she’d soon be physically steering him on a collision course into Bucky’s abode.

            “No, what you need help with is manning up and figuring things out with Bucky.” At that, Steve had considered several responses, some a bit more obscene than others, before he’d sighed.   Settled on the “I hate you” bit, before grabbing a pizza roll and stuffed it in his mouth instead, wondering how long he had to try and stay invisible before he could make an escape. And if he could conceivably eat the rest of the pizza rolls while he was at it. He really did love some Totino’s.

            “You came.” Jolting at the breathy, adoring voice that spoke up right behind him, Steve turned, eyebrow raised, to take in the man standing there, expression awestruck. Eyes practically beaming out little floating hearts. Fortunately, that love-struck stare was _not_ directed towards him. But rather his suspiciously smiling ex-best friend.

            “I promised I would,” Natasha said, her expression one of smug satisfaction that only she could pull off.

            “Wait what-” Steve began. And was summarily ignored.

            “I’m so glad. Seriously. The bad news though, is I don’t have that jet ski just yet. You know, can’t get delivery on such short notice.”

            “Jet ski?” Steve demanded. Neither individual spared him a glance.

            Natasha bit her lip thoughtfully, and Steve _knew_ that was a maneuver. Hell, he’d _taught_ her that maneuver. Okay, maybe she’d taught it to him. But still. Why was she using any maneuver on a stranger in Bucky’s house? And why did he just _know_ it didn’t bode well for Steve? Snapping his mouth shut, he decided to use the moment of distraction to subtly sidle towards the door. After grabbing a handful of pizza rolls that is. Because, pizza rolls.

            “Guess we’ll just have to plan another time where you can deliver it personally,” Natasha responded, and Steve almost paused at the flat-out flirtatious tone of voice. He tried to recall the last time he’d heard that voice from her. And now it was aimed at this guy, with tousled sandy blond hair, a violent purple shirt, decked out in several Band-Aids, including one right across the bridge of his nose. Steve gave him an appraising look, before remembering his goal. _Don’t get distracted Rogers_ , he coached himself, and began shuffling once more, narrowly avoiding getting pegged in the face by a loud large man who looked like a Norse god, gesturing widely as he told a joke in a booming voice. “But first, we have some business to attend to,” Natasha added.

            At that, the man in purple nodded, purpose coming over his face. “Right. Hey blondie, don’t even think about it,” he said, and Steve froze, one hand on the door. He turned slowly to see both random dude and Natasha staring at him. She wasn’t glaring at Steve this time. Instead, she was smiling. A grin that matched the one stretched across bandaged guy, and Steve just _knew_ this didn’t bode well.

            Which was only confirmed when they each linked an arm through his, and began to haul him further into Bucky’s apartment. “Hey, what the-” Steve started. Before he found himself unceremoniously thrown forward. The force of their combined strength throwing him right into the back of another man. The very man he’d been trying to avoid. Who nearly toppled over at the impact, before turning around and staring up at Steve with very wide eyes.

            “Steve?” Bucky said, the shock apparent in his voice.

            Crap. This night was not going his way. Mildly considering diving out the patio door, and vaulting right off the balcony, he decided his already bruised ego couldn’t handle the damage a full out retreat would inflict. At least with all these witnesses. If he managed to create a diversion so no one was looking… Steve sighed. Then mustered up the best smile he could. He awkwardly held out his hand, still miraculously holding the tasty appetizers. “Pizza roll?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously. I no longer make promises regarding when these two dorks will figure things out. This whole thing is drawing out far longer than I expected, but I'm enjoying the results so I can't complain. Again, thank you for reading, and if you are still enjoying this ridiculous tale of thus far thwarted love, please let me know! Happy comments fill my heart with joy. :D


	8. Chapter 8

Staring up into Steve’s face, Bucky blinked slowly. Before looking down at the beer he’s holding, carefully recounting how many he’d had thus far. After doing the math, a relatively easy feat considering he was still on his first bottle, he knew that no, he certainly hadn’t had enough to generate a full on hallucination. And really, Bucky simply didn’t have the creativity to craft a vision as stunning as the gorgeous blond out of thin air.

            When Steve’s forced smile fell slightly, and something like embarrassment began to creep over those absurdly attractive features, Bucky jolted himself out of his revere. While the last thing he’d expected to see was Steve here, after their excruciatingly awkward parting that was a memory that still make Bucky’s skin burn hot with mortification, seeing the discomfited way Steve shifted convinced him. This was definitely real, because _obviously_ Steve would be ill at ease around him, and Bucky really had no idea what the hell to do. Lacking any of inspiration, he snagged one of the pizza rolls stacked in a little pyramid on the napkin Steve offered right as Steve looked about ready to give up, expression turning more despondent than ever. When Bucky popped it in his mouth, Steve chanced meeting his gaze once more. Seemingly encouraged by the acceptance of his gesture, Steve smiled hesitantly. “So. Nice get-together you’re having here. Excellent food choice.”

            And _damn_ it. As if Bucky wasn’t already having a hard enough time trying to get over the unfairly adorable 2B (in other words, having no success whatsoever) Steve just had to go and be perfect all over again. Grasping that concept that this wasn’t a party, _and_ for all appearances enjoying the culinary delight that was Totino’s as much as Bucky did – it was just unacceptable. Sighing, Bucky nerves warring with frustrated annoyance at cruel, cruel fate for shoving this wonderful person he’d never have in his face once more, he ran a nervous hand through his hair, before remembering he’d pulled it back in a messy bun. Perfect. Could he be any more of a dork.

            “Hey Steve.   How, uh, how’s it going?” Bucky questioned stiltedly, noted the way Steve flushed slightly, rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. Bucky literally had to look away, to keep himself from doing anything stupid. Like kissing that adorable expression right of that stupidly cute face. Not the best idea when trying to kiss Steve in the first place is what taken a developing friendship that was fun, exciting, and seemingly full of possibilities for more, into this awkward state where Steve couldn’t even be in his apartment without looking like he wanted to run. And fast. The only possible course now was damage control.

            Yet when Bucky cleared his throat, and prepared to shove more clumsy words into the air like a confetti explosion of awkwardness, his brows suddenly pulled together. He noted the eyes that were looking his and Steve’s way. The many, _many_ eyes. Realizing now how the other conversations in the room had died off, all of his friends, his very nosy friends, were thoroughly enjoying the show. When they saw Bucky now glaring back, the noise spiked, all of them looking away and continuing their conversations with just a bit too much enthusiasm to be realistic. Rolling his eyes, Bucky started to speak, then paused, his scowl growing deeper yet when he saw the two individuals who had most certainly _not_ pretended to stop watching.

            Arms folded over his chest, Clint leaned against the wall as he stared with that ever penetrating gaze, watchful stance mirrored by Natasha of all people, the two of them intently eyeballing this car crash of an interaction. Wondering for just a second what the hell the beautiful red head was doing here, and why in God’s name she appeared to be in cahoots with Clint, Bucky turned back to Steve, observing the nervous tension radiating off the blond, and understood all in an instant.

            Clearly Steve was here under duress, and the two individuals he could only label as interfering lunatics were the cause. Muttering about meddling friends, Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose before shaking it off. Alright. He could work with this. As crappy as the ill-timed and frankly embarrassing intervention was, the fact remained, he owed Steve an apology. He didn’t hold out much hope for salvaging their friendship, but Steve deserved to hear Bucky’s sincere explanation. But damn if he would do it in front of those two meddlers, even as he wondered when the heck they’d even _met_.

            Grabbing Steve’s wrist, Bucky tugged the surprised looking blond out onto the patio, closing the door behind them, and instantly questioned the wisdom of his plan. Sure, they were now alone – on a tiny balcony that left them close enough for Bucky to admire the flecks of green in gorgeous blue eyes. The way his golden hair was perfectly tousled. How his perfect skin seemed to practically glow in the light of the street lamp. Great.

            Shoving aside the heat that burned beneath his skin in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment, Bucky cleared his throat. Dropped Steve’s wrist when he realize he’d still been holding it, the blonds skin warm and unreasonably soft. “Listen, Steve-”

            “I’m sorry,” Steve blurted out. His eyes refused to meet Bucky’s gaze as his expression grew frankly miserable. “I - it was my fault, and then I just made you leave without even, well, I just, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

            Brows drawing together, Bucky was shaking his head before Steve even finished his quick, anxious tumble of words. “Please, Steve, you don’t have to apologize. I get it. It was my fault. I misunderstood, and I thought – well. Obviously I’m not your type, and I get it. I just thought – it doesn’t matter. The point is, I shouldn’t have come into your home and tried to make a move on you without even asking if you were interested, or if you wanted me to. Which I now get you don’t, and really, that’s fine-” _You filthy liar,_ Bucky’s brain insisted, but there’s no reason Steve needed to know that.

            Seriously, the blond was feeling bad for how he’d handled Bucky’s unwanted advances, there was no way Bucky would make him feel worse with bearing the burden of Bucky’s unrequited feelings. Steve was just too damn good for his own good. “So I’m sorry. Really. And I promise not to try and kiss you again.” Just about the most awful promise he’d ever made, but the right thing to do was the right thing to do. No matter how wrong it felt.

            Steve was definitely staring at him now, gorgeous blue eyes wide, his gaze so weighted and stunned it was Bucky who looked away. He wondered if he could just Mission Impossible off the balcony and abandon his own get-together. With all the food, beer and music, no one would even notice right?

            “Try to kiss me?” Steve repeated, that deep voice cutting through Bucky’s not entirely hypothetical ponderings. “But you didn’t. I mean – I was trying to kiss _you_.”

            Well that got Bucky’s attention. His own equally wide eyes met Steve’s. “What?” he demanded. True, not the wittiest of replies, but it was the best he could manage while trying to grasp the implication of Steve’s words.

            “Yeah. I uh, you were just so damn cute, and nice, and before I even knew it I was just leaning in, then I caught myself, and felt horrible. Because you were just being nice and I shouldn’t have – I didn’t mean to-” Huffing out a breath as he fumbled for words, Steve ran a hand through his hair. He watched hesitantly as a smile curved Bucky’s lips, growing wider with each blundering sentence.

            Shaking his head, Bucky let out a laugh. Braced his hands on his hips. “Steve, I was being nice, because I _like_ you.” Steve’s hand fell heavily to his side, the air audibly whooshing from his lungs. Feeling more confident, Bucky continued. “I think you are ridiculously attractive, and funny, and kind, and obviously you have amazing tastes in movies, which I appreciate.” A small smile began to spread over Steve’s face, even as he continued to look astounded by this turn of events. “And clearly you’re just as big an idiot as me. So, you know, that’s something.” Steve was grinning now, head tilting in acceptance of Bucky’s assessment of their mutual stupidity.

            Taking a chance, Bucky commandeered the napkin full of pizza rolls and placed it carefully on the patio ledge. Not wanting to let those edible masterpieces end up on the ground. But he really wanted Steve’s hands free, so he could gently take them in his own. He felt the slight tremble in the large, warm hands, before they tightened around his own. “So. Let me be clear. Steve, I really like you. And would like to take you on a date. What do you say?”

            Looking dazzled, Steve nodded. “Yes. Please. That would be, uh, that would be amazing actually. But Buck?”

            Smile growing at the nickname, Bucky bit his lip, felt a jolt in his stomach when he noticed the way the blond’s gaze immediately shot down to his mouth, Steve’s lips parting in reaction. “Yes, Stevie?”

            Throat working as he swallowed, Steve let out a careful breath. “Could I, uh, kiss you now?”

            “Absolutely.” His breath caught when Steve released him, in favor of lifting those strong, firm hands capable of creating breathtaking art, and cupped Bucky’s face as though he were the most beautiful work of art ever. Leaning in, the two of them savored the moment as lips just barely touched, brushing lightly together. Before Steve let out the tiniest of sounds, angled his head and deepened the kiss, the fit of their mouths incredible and perfect.

            Moaning, Bucky let his mouth fall open, was gratified when Steve took the invitation and swept inside, the taste of him flooding Bucky’s senses. God, this is what he’d missed out on the past three days? To say nothing of the months before that. Never again, Bucky swore silently as he lifted a hand to tangle fingers in short golden hair that was just as soft as he’d imagined, enjoying the way Steve’s breath hitched, before he kissed Bucky with more enthusiasm than ever.

            Bucky had no idea how long they stood there, hungrily drinking in each other, yet gradually he noticed the silver of light that was shining stubbornly in his closed eyes. Cracked one open enough to notice the two sets of eyes peeking through the blinds, creepily staring at him with intrigued and frankly smug expressions. Never stopping the intoxicating drag of mouth against mouth, Bucky raised his free hand, his gesture silent yet eloquently expressing his thoughts towards his best friend. He watched those eyes roll, before the blinds snapped shut. Mission accomplished, he dropped his hand to grip onto Steve’s side instead. The gathering could wait – hell, the whole world could wait. He was in Steve’s hands right now, and that’s where he intended to stay for the foreseeable future.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!!! *Dancing happily around my living room* Thanks for sticking through with these two dorks and their pining, now please stay tuned for ridiculous tooth rotting fluff now that they both finally have gotten things sorted. As always, I appreciate you, my lovely readers, and if you are still enjoying this story I'd adore to hear from you in a comment!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I get a ridiculous, cheesy, fluffy idea for a fic that makes me grin like an idiot for hours. One such idea made it into this chapter. I make no apologies. *embracing the fluff*  
> Also, if anyone's curious, this story was inspired by the song Landline by Greg Laswell featuring Ingrid Michaelson. I imagined wistfully longing for the neighbor above you, and it spiraled into the fluff filled story you're reading today! Thanks Mr. Laswell :)

When Steve finally pulled back, for no other reason than to gasp for air, he couldn’t be sure if minutes had passed, or centuries. All he knew was that endless moment was the single most perfect of his life. Holding Bucky’s flawless face in his hands, meeting the demands of his sculpted lips, nothing had ever felt as exquisitely right as that. Trying to control his ragged breathing, Steve stared down into Bucky’s face, features looking stunned, and for an instant Steve worried that he’d been too forceful in his enthusiasm, and screwed this up already. Until a smile broke over those gorgeous lips, while Bucky was panting for air, just as breathless as Steve. “Wow. I mean seriously – just…wow.”

            Chuckling even as he blushed, Steve realized his hands were still cupping Bucky’s face, and quickly dropped them, shoving them in the pockets of his jeans so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to grab the brunet once more. As tempting as that sounded. Really, incredibly tempting. Especially when Bucky licked at his lush bottom lip before biting it. “Yeah, you too,” Steve replied with a shy smile, before glancing at the door, where the muffled sounds of music and conversation were coming through. “But, I should probably let you get back to your friends,” he added regretfully, not quite able to hold back the sigh at the idea.

            Bucky laughed. “Yeah, probably. My momma didn’t raise me to run out on my own gathering. But that’s okay. You should meet everyone.” And so before he knew it, Steve was being tugged back inside, where Bucky got him a beer and then took his hand. Steve was unable to bite back the grin at the thrill it gave him, feeling a further jolt when Bucky grinned back. Man, he had it bad. And, he realized with a happy little flutter in his chest, there wasn’t a single thing wrong with that.

            Jolting at the sound of a throat being cleared loudly behind them, Bucky and Steve turned as one to see Clint and Nat standing side by side, with arms folded and matching expressions of satisfaction so smug, it should be illegal. “So, you’re welcome,” Clint said at length, his smile only spreading when Bucky rolled his eyes.

            “I refuse to thank you for anything,” Bucky drawled. He watched Clint clap a hand dramatically over his chest, his wounded expression worthy of an Oscar.

            “Bro, how can you play me like that? After I got Prince Charming down here so ya’ll could eat, drink and be merry?” At the delicate little cough, Clint turned to beam down at Natasha, who was giving him an arch expression. “Right, right, sorry. After _we_ got him down here.” She nodded regally in satisfaction before smiling wickedly at Steve once more, who only sighed. He hated when she was right.

            “So, do I get to meet 2B officially?” Clint questioned, turning eyes full of curiosity on Steve.

            “Right, how rude of me,” Bucky muttered, then gave up and smiled. “Clint, this is Steve. Steve, this is my business partner, and the man I’m currently _not_ claiming as best friend, Clint.” At that, even Natasha laughed at the injured expression on Clint’s face, but Steve only smiled. He let go of Bucky’s hand long enough to grasp Clint’s in a firm shake.

            “Nice to meet you Clint.”

            “You too, it’s great to finally meet the guy who had my main man here moping like a prom queen runner up.”

            “Aaaand, that’s enough introductions for one night!” Bucky spoke loudly, trying to steer Steve away, who was laughing too heavily, and frankly just too heavy, to be budged.

            “Bucky, Natasha. Nat, Bucky,” Steve got out his own introductions before she waved him away, while patting a sorrowful Clint on the shoulder.

            “Nice to meet you officially Bucky. I think I’ve got it from here,” she said with a wink, before turning her gorgeous face up to Clint, smiling so charmingly he completely forgot to look put out. “I think after our hard work, we deserve a drink,” she suggested.

            “That we do,” Clint agreed heartily, steering her towards the fridge, and while Bucky was interested despite himself in that development, he was more interested in escaping his friend who apparently made it a mission in life to embarrass the hell out of Bucky. As if Bucky didn’t do the job well enough on his own…

            Fortunately, this time Steve allowed himself to pull away, until they were back in the living room, beaming happily at one another.

            “So. We both have ridiculous friends. That’s something else we can bond over,” Steve offered, had the pleasure of watching Bucky throw his head back in laughter.

            “Oh man, you’re not kidding. But seriously. Clint’s pretty great. And Natasha seems like she is too. We may have to thank them. Someday. Very, very far away,” Bucky said, and Steve had no argument there. “So anyway. About that date. When are you free?”

            “Tomorrow?” Steve replied instantly. Wondering if that was too eager. But he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t already impatient to go out with Bucky for the first time. Was relieved when Bucky’s eyes lit up at the response.

            “Perfect.”

 

 

Impatient Steve might be. Prepared, he was not. Clearly it had been too long since his last first date. Granted, look how that had turned out – so perhaps the further in the past that debacle was, the better. But regardless, it left him feeling clueless about how to proceed. Specifically, what to wear.

            Last night had been amazing, not only discovering Bucky returned what Steve had assumed were unrequited feelings, but then to spend time with him, meet all his friends. They’d all been cheerfully curious about Steve, and funny, kind, and witty in turn, so that by the end of the night, instead of feeling like the idiot who’d literally stumbled in by accident, he actually felt like he belonged. Especially when Bucky wrapped a casual arm around his waist, keeping Steve by his side the entire time. It was been wonderful. Even more so when at the end of the night, Bucky had insisted on walking Steve up the stairs to his door despite Steve’s laughing protests, and kissed him into silence before giving him a wink. “Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

            Well, tomorrow was here, and while Steve’s excitement to actually get this date started had only grown, his anxiety was climbing just as quickly. Looking at the three outfits he’d managed to assemble out of his closet, carefully laid across his bed, he frowned, brows furrowing as he considered. Part of the problem was he didn’t know exactly what this date entailed, so had a hard time dressing accordingly. But the rest of the issue was he, according to Natasha, tended to dress like an old man from the 40’s, and so wanted to look nice but feared his first choice outfit would put Bucky in mind of a geriatric. It was a problem. About to cave, and shoot Natasha a photo text of his options, who he knew would be happy to help, but not without dishing out a heavy side helping of teasing, he was distracted by the knock on the door.

            Appreciating and despairing the distraction all at one, Steve grabbed a pair of pants at random, and hurriedly pulled them on as he yelled, “Coming!”. When he finally managed to get to the door, breathless after nearly falling on his face when he tripped over the potential shoes he’d set out, he yanked it open, and was surprised to see Bucky standing there, handsome as sin, and twice as sexy smiling up at him.

            “Son of a fish, I’m late aren’t I?” Steve swore in panic, looking down at his wrist before realizing he’d yet to put on a watch. Human disaster – Steve Rogers.

            “Don’t worry. You’re not late. Actually I just wanted to pop up and see if I could borrow a cup of flour?” Bucky questioned, grinning winningly when Steve blinked slowly in obvious confusion.

            “Flour? Uh, really?” Were they staying in? Was Bucky cooking after all? When the two of them had polished off the rest of the pizza rolls the night before, Bucky had sighed, saying throwing the appetizers in the oven it was the closest to baking he would ever get. Or, oh God, what if Steve had misunderstood the day they were going out? Or worse, what if Bucky had forgotten? Or worst of worse, decided he wasn’t interested in a date with Steve after all…

            “If it’s not too much trouble? I promise I’ll pay you back,” Bucky said, wiggling his eyebrows, which managed to work a laugh out of Steve despite his spiraling thoughts of doom.

            “Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to do that-” he began as he went to the kitchen, yet Bucky quickly interjected.

            “No, no, I insist. Thanks Steve,” Bucky said when he came back with a half full sack of flour in his hand. Snagging it, Bucky tucked it under his arm, and moved away from the door. “I’ll get out of your hair. Word is you’ve got a hot date in a few minutes,” Bucky winked, before disappearing down the stairs.

            Steve heaved out a breath sheer of relief. Okay – date still on. Before he remembered his still unfinished ensemble, and ran back to his room. Deciding to decide via the only appropriate and logical method, he utilized a rapid fire round of eeny meeny miny mo, then quickly scrambled into the victorious outfit. Dashing to the bathroom, he quickly combed his hair into submission, than took a moment to assess the affect. Dark jeans, a navy blue button up, with the sleeves rolled up, paired with nice shoes – he thought it struck the right balance between casual and dressy. He hoped. Hearing the jaunty knock at the door once more, he blew out a breath. Too late to change now.

            Managing to make it to the door without tripping over anything this time, Steve grinned at Bucky who stood there simply beaming. Feeling his nerves easing further just by being in the brunets presence. “Hey, long time no see,” Steve teased.

            “I dunno, I almost feel like I saw you just a minute ago,” Bucky joked. “And speaking of, if I’m remembering correctly, I said I’d pay you back.” Eyes opening wide, Steve felt the smile slide off his face, morphing into an expression of shock when Bucky dramatically pulled out a giant bouquet of flowers from behind his back, and offered them to Steve.

            “You… bought me flowers?” Steve managed, dazzled as he stared at the gorgeous arrangement of flowers, an astounding array of colors and types. It wasn’t until Bucky wiggled the bouquet encouragingly in his direction that Steve managed to recover enough to take the flowers, his eyes shining. “Bucky, no one’s ever, I mean, I don’t – these are amazing. Thank you.”

            To Bucky’s delight, Steve actually buried his face in the blooms, inhaling deeply, and Bucky felt himself fall a little bit more. Yet he kept his voice purposely light when he replied, “Well, I did promise to return the flour. And I am a man of my word.” No need to rush things, he reminded himself, even though he felt like he was falling out of like, and head long into love. _Play it cool, Barnes._

            At that, Steve lifted his head and beamed at Bucky. “Oh my God. Flowers for some flour? Did you even need the flour, or are you just that cheesy?”

            Bucky cocked an eyebrow, but the effect was somewhat lost by his foolish grin. “I think you mean, am I just that smooth. And yes, absolutely, I am.” Amused, delighted, and ridiculously touched, Steve leaned down to lay his lips on that grin, loving the feel of Bucky’s smile against his own.

            “Let me put these in water, and then we can go.”

            “Sounds great. And by the way, Steve? You look amazing.”

            Blushing as he grabbed a vase from under the sink, Steve gave Bucky a quick appraising glance before busying himself arranging the flowers in the container. “You look pretty incredible yourself,” he said, the sincerity in his voice undeniable. Wearing a stone gray sweater underneath a leather jacket, jeans and boots, hair pulled back, Bucky was absurdly handsome, and Steve felt luckier than ever. Task finished, he placed the vase on his kitchen table, and then grabbed Bucky’s hand in his own. “What do you think?”

            Bucky gave the arrangement an approving nod. “Almost as pretty as you, Stevie.”

            Steve laughed, giving him a little shove while they moved to the door, locking it behind them before they headed down the stairs together. “So, can I ask where we’re going?”

            “Well, Dinocroc 3 is in theaters, so I thought we’d catch that, then grab some dinner afterwards. How’s that sound?”

            Pausing to look into Bucky’s face, Steve shook his head, wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. Tugging the brunet in for a longer kiss, he only pulled back when Bucky’s breath was as uneven as his own. “It sounds absolutely perfect.”

            And it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clintasha brings me joy. Steve and Bucky finally getting it together also brings me joy. It is a most joyous time!
> 
> *side note. I'm a grown ass adult, and I legitimately use eeny meeny miny mo to make decisions on a daily basis. It's so effective.
> 
> The response I've been receiving on this fic just blows me away, and I want to thank each and every one of you for reading this story. Also thank you most especially for your wonderful comments. They really do mean so much to me, so if you are enjoying this fic, I'd love to hear from you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may need to check for cavities... after writing all this tooth rotting fluff. Sorry, not sorry.

“Dynamite! Dynamite!” Jolting as the text notification shouted into the morning quiet room, Bucky groaned at his abrupt and alarming state of wakefulness. He cursed when he heard his cell phone hit the floor due to his startled flailing. Bucky muttered dire implications at whoever had disturbed his _finally_ sleeping state, and contemplated his own sanity for having such a ridiculous text alert noise. But really, Black Dynamite had been such an epically awesome movie, he’d been unable to resist. And it hadn’t been an issue, until now, when it woke him up after no more than three hours of sleep since he’d spent a majority of the night wide awake. But. Since he was now somewhat coherent, with his heart rate still pounding in delayed reaction, he may as well see what the heck was so important someone was contacting him at crack of dawn-thirty.

            Sighing, he wiggled in resignation until he could stretch his arm over the edge of the bed, fingertips just barely reaching the phone, point blank refusing to just get up like a normal person to grab it. Awake he may be, but nothing was getting him out of his comfy blanket nest short of the zombie apocalypse. And even then, it was debatable.

            Blinking blearily, Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits when he unlocked his phone and light speared painfully out it. “Sweet mother Mary,” he muttered, waiting for the spots to fade from his vision before he read the text. At which point his grumpy expression was abruptly replaces with a wide, foolish grin.

_Steve 8:05 AM_

_Good morning Bucky. I wanted to thank you for a wonderful night. And would love to repay you for dinner with breakfast. Would you happen to be available?_

            Seriously. Just when Bucky thought Steve couldn’t possibly be any more adorable, Steve went and proved him wrong. And he’d already rated his adorable level pretty damn high. Last night _had_ been wonderful, as Steve had so eloquently expressed. And with actual capitalization and punctuation. In a text message. Who did that? In fact, it had been the best first date Buck had ever had. Now assured of Steve’s interest, Bucky had felt confident in being his completely cheesy, yet still charming self, and the pair of them had talked and laughed their way through dinner, and the dessert they’d lingered over after. Steve had insisted they share, then neatly divided the chocolate lava cake in two precisely even halves, which Bucky found freaking adorable. Then ended up eating his own half, and the better part of Bucky’s anyways. Which Bucky found even cuter.

            Honestly, he probably had a problem, he’d acknowledged in that moment, staring as the blond gesture with his fork, with a fond expression and a warmth in his chest that should have triggered a warning. Bucky knew his own faults, and when it came to relationships, he had a habit of falling too hard, too fast. Yet nothing he’d ever experienced before felt remotely close to how natural and happy he felt with Steve. And while he had zero intentions of scaring the blond away with sudden declarations which could sound either romantic or just insane, he didn’t bother trying to fight the feeling. Not when it was the best he’d ever had. Instead, he was determined to enjoy the hell out of it. Privately.

            Which Bucky had last night. Admittedly, maybe a little too much. After walking Steve up to his door once more, and hauling him in for a goodnight kiss that had left them both breathing harder, Bucky had walked back down to his apartment. Peeled his clothes off, pulled on a soft tee and sweats, then crawled into his bed. Where he’d lain awake practically all night long, reliving every moment of their date, straight up swooning, hugging his pillow to his chest like a love sick teenage girl. Which embarrassed him slightly, but no one had to know.

            He remembered how Steve had managed to toss popcorn all over them and the thankfully empty row ahead of them with a startled jolt when Dinocroc had burst on the screen. The way he tossed his head back in laughter and clutched his chest when Bucky told him about the time Clint had almost gotten the pair of them arrested in Tijuana. The way he’d looked up through thick lashes, his expression almost bashful as he’d confessed he’d wanted to go out with Bucky since the first time they met. The nearly shy look should have been ridiculous on such a gorgeous, handsomely masculine face, and yet, _damn_ it worked. Made Bucky stir restlessly as he remembered it in exquisite detail. Considered all the things it made him want to do in reaction. But there was no rush, he reminded himself as he rolled over for the thousandth time. They had all the time in the world.

            Now, he enjoyed knowing Steve had enjoyed their evening together as much as he. Even if he would have preferred finding it out at a more reasonable hour. Like noon.

_Bucky 8:07 AM_

_glad you had a great time, i definitely did too. and I never say no to breakfast. when it occurs at a normal time. how about 10?_

  _Steve 8:08 AM_

_We certainly could do it at ten. But if you’re awake, and I’m awake…_

            Reading the next text, Bucky sighed, and plopped his face back in his pillow. Well, it turns out Steve wasn’t perfect after all. He was clearly one of those unnatural, potentially evil creatures – a morning person. Groaning, Bucky lifted his face once more. Mostly because it was hard to breath. He really was far gone, when discovering this fact didn’t dampen his affection for the other man in the slightest.

_Bucky 8:10 AM_

_yeah, I’m awake now.... >.<_

_Steve 8:10 AM_

_Ah. Why don’t I formally apologize for waking you over coffee and bacon? I know a place where the dress code is pretty relaxed. Sleep attire welcome. :D_

            Frowning in sleepy confusion, Bucky’s brows furrowed deeper when he heard the persistent, and way too cheerful knock at the front door. Sighing mournfully, he clambered out of bed, shooting it one last longing look before he shuffled drowsily to the door. Which he flung open crankily. Then blinked at the vision that was Steve Rogers, first thing in the morning.

            Golden hair tousled in a way that make Bucky’s fingers itch to touch, casual and cozy in a white t shirt and plaid pajama pants, a beaming smile upon that gorgeous face – Steve was freaking beautiful. Damn it. Knowing this was just one more vision that would keep him awake at night like the romantic fool he was, Bucky sighed. Slumped against the door frame.

            “You’re a lunatic,” he announced. Rubbed his eyes and failed to notice the way Steve’s breath caught slightly, pupils expanding at the raspy sound of Bucky’s voice first thing in the morning.

            Clearing his throat, Steve rubbed at the back of his neck. “So they say. But come on Bucky. _Breakfast_.” Dropping his hand, Bucky shook his head, looking down at his bare feet then at Steve’s before meeting that sincere blue gaze.

            “You make a compelling argument. But even IHOP has standards Steve. And right now I don’t think we cut it.”

            Steve grinned. “Trust me.” And when he grabbed Bucky’s hand, then began to haul him up the stairs, Bucky only just had the time to make a startled yelp, and jerk his apartment door closed behind him. Before he found himself manhandled in Steve’s kitchen, where Steve picked up a steaming cup of coffee, and pressed it into Bucky’s hands.

            “Bless you,” Bucky breathed, lashes falling shut as he inhaled the heavily scent. Taking a sip, he shuddered at the blissful taste. Before opening his eyes and smiling up at Steve at last. “So. Breakfast huh?”

            Shaking himself from his daze, drinking in the sight of Bucky as eagerly as Bucky was drinking in the caffeine, Steve felt a blush crawl up his neck. “You’ve got it. Only the best at Café Rogers,” he joked, as he turned to his stove, where he had a pan heating. “How does bacon, eggs and pancakes sound?”

            “Pretty much perfect,” Bucky murmured. Leaning against the counter as he took another gulp of coffee, he shook his head slightly. This was all perfect. Even being awake at such an ungodly hour didn’t seem like such a high price to pay, when he got to see Steve, looking rumpled and wonderful, skillfully mixing up pancake batter, pouring out perfect circles in a skillet as he adroitly flipped bacon in another pan. Setting aside the mug, Bucky gave in to the temptation, and moved towards the other man to wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist from behind, pressing his face into the warmth of his back.

            Part of him worried that he was being too tactile, too soon. Feared crossing boundaries in a relationship that was still so new. Yet Steve had been the first to initiate physical contact, and had since taken every opportunity to hold Bucky’s hand, cuddle into his side, and drop soft kisses on his mouth. So when Steve stilled, then turned in Bucky’s arms, it was only to wrap the shorter man in his own arms. Contentedly, Bucky breathed in the smell of Steve, happy in the embrace. There was no point fighting back the thought that filled his mind – that he could get used to this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay things are so happy and fluffy and great! For now... *wiggling brows while peering significantly over the top of my glasses at my lovely readers*  
> Also, the movie Black Dynamite brings me such joy. Not exactly a B genera movie, but worthy of making it into this story. I've had the "dynamite dynamite" text alert, and let me tell you, it's alarming in the middle of the night. Or the morning, as the case may be.  
> If you're enjoying this fic, and would fancy letting my know in a comment, I'd just adore it!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! Here we are again... it has been a unique challenge writing two fics at the same time, particularly of such different themes. If you know not what I speak of, and super naughty vampire stucky AU's are your thing, please feel free to take a jaunt on over to my other work in progress, Adrenalize Me *shameless plug ;)* But challenge aside, I'm loving it, especially thanks to the wonderful responses I'm getting from you! I hope you enjoy this latest chapter.

“I’m literally dying. It’s official. Good thing I have my will in order. Take care of my plants for me, won’t you?” Staring up at the ceiling as he lay flat on the couch, Bucky sighed. He turned his head just enough to shot a glance at Clint, who was sprawled in his favorite chair, legs dangling over the arms, face bland as he calmly turned the page of a magazine he was leafing through.

            It was precisely the position Bucky had found the man in when he’d walked into his apartment twenty minutes earlier. Shoes kicked off in the middle of the carpet, open beer sitting next to him, bowl of Cheetos balanced on his stomach. Bucky could have been surprised, seeing as how the men had had no plans to hang out this evening. Should have been surprised, considering how he had yet to make his best friend a key. Yet, surprised he was not. This was Clint after all. He’d hacked into Bank of America after Bucky had drunkenly insisted that was something beyond his skills, and Clint had drunkenly retorted nothing was beyond his skills. Turns out Clint was right. After that, a little friendly B & E was small fries.

            Rather than lamenting the fact his oldest friend, and business partner, was a house-breaking-into lunatic, or feeling sad Clint had snagged the last beer out of his fridge, Bucky had instead tossed himself on the handiest piece of furniture, and mourned his imminent death. If Clint was going to suck up his beer, his snacks and his oxygen, the blond should at least make himself useful. Yet so far, Clint’s sympathetic listening skills left something to be desired.

            “Sure. I’ll lovingly keep them alive for years in your memory,” Clint replied absently, pausing on a spread on dirt bikes. He took a considering sip of beer. Munched on a Cheeto. Maybe Nat would want one of those… Take them off high enough jumps and they could be just as fun as a wave runner.

            “Good,” Bucky said, before staring back up at the ceiling with a soulful sigh. “I should probably donate my movie collection to Steve. None of my other heathen friends would appreciate it properly.”

            “You got that right,” Clint muttered, then batted his lashes innocently when Bucky glared at him.

            “Although. It’s probably not the best idea to gift him anything when he’s the cause of my swiftly approaching demise.”

            “You know, unless he actually stabs you, or maybe suffocates you with those shockingly impressive biceps, I don’t think he could be held accountable in a court of law. The charges wouldn’t stick. He’s too damn nice.”

            Another sigh. “You’re probably right. But you’d know how I met my end. That counts for something.”

            “Uh huh.” Another sip of beer. Another Cheeto. Flip flip flip.

            Pouting at the less than inspiring expression of compassion, Bucky drummed his fingers on his stomach. He shouldn’t really blame Steve. Certainly didn’t want him charged for murder, and doomed to spend the rest of his life in prison. Not only was Steve of better service to the world as a free man creating wonderful art and lighting up the earth with a smile like sunshine, he was far too pretty for jail.    

            Yet the fact remained, Bucky was certain the gorgeous, funny, dorky and completely wonderful man would bring about a fatality. They’d been dating for a while now. Gone on fifteen delightful, incredible, unimaginably fabulous dates. To the park, to fancy restaurants and greasy food trucks, one memorable picnic that had been unexpectedly rained on, a trip to the coast, and more than a few movie nights snuggled up on Bucky’s couch as they enjoyed films the rest of Bucky’s friends would only roll their eyes at. It had all been amazing. _Steve_ was amazing.

            The problem was, in addition to be gorgeous, funny, dorky, and completely wonderful, Steve was also sexy as hell. Whether he was dressed up in a suit, dressed down in some jeans, or wearing sweat dampened workout gear, coaxing Bucky to lean over his balcony for a post-workout kiss, since he could never persuade the brunet to join him. Bucky would let himself be talked into just about anything by the tall man, but jogging was where he drew the line. Especially when Steve insisted on doing it at such an uncivilized hour. As far as Bucky was concerned, nothing strenuous should occur before ten am. Although, he could think of one activity he’d make an exception for.

            Groaning, Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face, before letting his arm flop dejectedly over the side of the couch. It wasn’t that Bucky was sex obsessed. He _wasn’t_. Not being the type for casual hook ups, he’d gone without physical intimacy since his last relationship had ended, and functioned perfectly fine. He was a grown-ass man, and knew how to take care of business when it required taking care of, no assistance necessary.

            However. Now he was dating Steve. Not just dating, he was in a _relationship_ with Steve. Had been since date three, when he’d asked 2B to be exclusive. Which was likely jumping the gun, but again – Bucky, hopeless romantic. And Steve, the best thing since Totino’s pizza rolls. There was no way Bucky could spend time with him and not want to commit. And now he had the commitment he craved, and things were wonderful.

            Particularly when they no longer waited till the end of their dates to engage in some freaking fantastic make-out sessions. Encounters that only served to convince Bucky more of Steve’s perfection. The way the blond tasted, the way his breath would catch when Bucky would nip at his bottom lip, how he’d hold Bucky closer, tighter, in response. Long kisses at the close of the night became longer kisses at the beginning, middle, and end. Yet any time things got too heated – or not heated enough, in Bucky’s opinion – Steve would pull away, the flush of arousal in his golden skin only making him more irresistible looking than ever, and would take deep breaths, visibly working on calming himself down.

            Bucky had never pushed, not being the type to shove someone for intimacies they weren’t ready or willing to share. And Steve – God, he’d fallen for him hard. So nothing was more important to him that Steve’s comfort. Yet as he’d gotten to know the blond better, both of them revealing more about themselves, their pasts, and previous relationships, he’d begun to see a troubling pattern. Steve, who he’d learned was surprisingly self-conscious, and lacking in confidence, had taken Bucky aback when he’d revealed he’d only been in one relationship before. And from the sounds of it, it hadn’t gone well.

            From the things Steve had said about his ex, and even more importantly, the things he hadn’t, it didn’t take long for Bucky to draw the conclusion that rather than building Steve up, his previous boyfriend had instead managed to tear Steve down. An idea that baffled Bucky. Not only did he work hard to leave an ending relationship on a cordial note if nothing else, he’d never rip at an ex, before, during or after a breakup. They’d all been great people – just not _the_ person for Bucky in the end, and there was no fault in that. So the thought that someone could treat this incredible man with anything less than respect and positivity, it not only confused Bucky, it frankly pissed him off.

            Steve clearly having been burnt before, Bucky could better understand his reticence. And he respected that entirely. Yet he couldn’t deny his overwhelming desire to be with Steve. Not just because Bucky was a guy, who happened to be in a sexual drought to rival a hermit living in the middle of the Sahara desert But because Bucky adored Steve, and wanted to be with him in every way. Wanted to share himself with the man he’d come to care for more than anyone he’d ever dated before. Which left him in a perpetual state of semi-arousal, with no end in sight, other than his death due to sexual frustration.

            “So, really thinking outside the box here, but why don’t you just talk to Steve about the fact you want to get all up in that?” Clint offered, startling Bucky who’d almost forgotten the other man was there in the middle of his morose musings. Pout only growing, Bucky drew his brows together. Both displeased with the solution, and the fact Clint had figured out _why_ exactly Bucky was staring his own mortality in the face. Damn perceptive friend.

            “I don’t want to put pressure on him. Or make him feel bad if he isn’t ready. To either do it, or talk about doing it.”

            “Well, then it sounds like you’ve only got one choice left,” Clint declared, tossing the magazine aside and turning to plant his feet firmly on the floor, gaze unexpectedly stern as he looked at Bucky at last. “Get naked, and see what happens.”

            And that quickly, Bucky’s lowered brows were suddenly making acquaintance with his hair line. “I’m not going to just jump the guy, Clint!” Not that he hadn’t fantasized about it but again – comfort. Consent. Cooperation. Which took him back to square one.

            “I’m not suggesting you roofie him and do the horizontal mambo once he face plants,” Clint shot back, rolling his eyes at Bucky who finally sat up to face him. “I’m just saying, you both kind of suck at communicating desire to take things to the next level, as evidenced by your struggle to even invite him to your party-”

            “Get-together!” Bucky interjected. Yet he was definitely considering the pros and cons of this new recommendation.

            Clint barreled on as though there had been no interruption. “I’m just saying, maybe when you present, uh, the _option,_ if you will, things can progress. It’s an idea, anyway.”

            “Clint?”

            “Yes Buckaroo?”

            “You’re a lunatic.”

            “So they say. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” Flopping back on the couch once more, Bucky had to admit, at least to himself, that once again, Clint might be right.

 

 

“Well Rogers, according to Cosmo here, looks like you’re finally ready to lose your virginity. So what are you waiting for? Prom night?”

            Rolling his eyes, Steve wondered for the millionth time why he and Natasha were friends. Or why he'd brought up his current sexual conundrum. Not that he'd actually brought it up, come to think of it. Natasha had simply shown up for their dinner date night with a giant bag of Thai food, taken one look at him, and announced he needed to get laid. Then insisted she and her trusty magazine would help him through this exciting time in his life. Only the knowledge that she could likely snap his neck had kept him from trying to kick her lovely, yet occasional obnoxious ass. Metaphorically at least. His mother raised him better than to ever raise a hand against a lady. Yet hoisting up the petite redhead and firmly shoving her outside the door didn’t seem like a bad idea.

            But she was his best friend, for better or worse. And Steve Rogers, as his current situation proved all too well, was not a man of action. So instead he just sat there and glared at his Thai noodles. He poked at them with less enthusiasm than he’d had a minute ago. “I’m not a virgin,” he grumbled, scowling when she shoved aside her magazine, and leaned across the table to pat his cheek.

            “Joking, Steve. I know you’re not. Which is why I’m baffled you haven’t jumped tall, dark, and sexy yet.”

            Setting aside his fork, expression dangerously close to a sulk, Steve sighed. Raked a hand through his hair. “These things take time.”

            “Time I get. A biblical age though, seems to push it a bit. I mean, look at Clint and I. We’ve been doing it for weeks now.”

            Abruptly glad both his hands were free, so he could clap them over his instantly red face, Steve groaned. “Details – remember? How we talked about not going into details? Ever?”

            “Hey, I didn’t give you a comprehensive retrospective, did I? All I’m saying is, it’s obvious you really like this guy. And he clearly likes you. And you’re both young, hot and healthy. So why not make sweet, sweet love and then celebrate with waffles?”

            Expression pained, Steve looked up, and Natasha’s eyes went soft when she understood what exactly that look meant. And it had nothing to do with Steve unhappily picturing her and Clint jumping on the good foot and doing the bad thing. Taking one of his hands in her own, she sighed. “Listen. Steve. I know that after what you’ve been through, it can be difficult to put yourself out there. Difficult to trust again. But I think Bucky has shown he’s worthy of that trust, that effort.”

            When Steve stayed silent, she gave his hand a squeeze. “If you’re not ready, I get that. But if you not being ready has anything to do with that ass-hat Rumlow, and how he made you feel like you weren’t worthwhile, or attractive, or any of that other complete nonsense, Steve sweetie, you’ve got to put that aside. No one else gets to decide what your worth, and certainly not someone as self-absorbed as Rumlow.”

            Steve knew she was right. Or at the very least, he wanted to _believe_ she was right. It was a start. Biting his lip, he nodded. Which seemed to satisfy her, when she granted him a warm smile and went back to her Pad Krapow Moo Saap. Picking his fork back up, he scooped up more noodles. And wondered just how an asthmatic with the confidence of the skinny little kid he used to be made a move on someone as incredibly sexy as Bucky. For once, his creative and artistic mind gave him absolutely nothing. Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah. These two. Will the hesitation never end?? *Hint - yes. Next chapter. Stay tuned ;)* As always, if you like what you've read, I LOVE hearing from you. Seriously. Sometimes I just sit and reread lovely comments and grin like a fool. So please, comment away!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I'm so glad I was able to get this chapter up tonight! I'm headed off for a fun birthday vacation in Chicago, so won't be able to update for a little bit. I hope you lovely readers enjoy this chapter in particular, because ever since I started formulating this story, I've had this particular scene in mind. And we've finally reached it! So without further ado... Please enjoy Chapter 12!

Sighing happily, Steve took a lazy sip of his beer. Feeling that in that moment, everything about life was pretty much perfect. Beer was always good. Relaxing with beer was even better. Glancing over at the cheerful ping of his text notification, he picked up his phone, felt the smile spread helplessly across his face. Texts from Bucky – best of all.

            Steve had wondered, when they’d entered into their relationship, just what the boundaries would be when dating a neighbor. Yet he’d been glad to discover Bucky respected his space as well as he would have had they lived miles apart, rather than feet. Both men texted, to see if company was wanted before showing up at the others door. Granted, practically every time it _was_ wanted, because really, how could Steve ever get enough of Bucky? He was pretty sure it was a scientific impossibility. And he’d been stunned yet happy to discover Bucky seemed to feel the same way about him. But regardless, they both had jobs to do, other friends to see, as well as the occasional need to hermit, like any normal individual. So it was nice, knowing his boundaries were respected. But it was even nicer to know, with each text, Bucky was thinking about him.

_Bucky 7:42 PM_

_Hey Stevie. How’d your day go? Get that big project finished? :)_

            Bucky, Steve had discovered, had a great fondness for emoticons. And Steve thought it was basically the cutest thing ever.

_Steve 7:43 PM_

_As a matter of fact. Relaxing with a well-earned beer. And don’t want to see a paint brush for the next twenty four hours, at least._

_Bucky 7:43 PM_

_That awesome, great job. Any chance you’d like to relocate your relaxation and veg out with me? I’ll be sure to keep my secret collection of brushes hidden, so you’re not traumatized ;)_

            That did sound pretty fantastic. Considering any activity was only enhanced by Bucky’s presence. However…

_Steve 7:44 PM_

_I’d love to. But, my relaxing *might* be occurring in the tub. Not very conductive for relocation._

            Taking another sip, Steve watched with slight amusement as the little dots appeared, showing Bucky was typing, before disappearing. Appearing. Disappearing. Alright, so maybe it was a bit of a revelation. Steve hadn’t yet discussed his deep love for hot baths with Bucky, and knew he didn’t exactly look like the soaking in a tub, scented candles, and glass of wine kind of guy. But since he was drinking a beer, and there were no candles present, scented or otherwise, he felt like it wasn’t _all_ that different from a hot tub really. And who didn’t love hot tubs?

            Yet when the text finally came through, Steve was surprised he didn’t need to launch into the defenses he’d mentally prepped.

_Bucky 7:47 PM_

_Hot bath huh? That is relaxing. But unless you’re rocking a bubble bath, I’ll question if you really know how to live. And would argue relaxing with me could be just as nice as a boring, bubble free bath._

            Letting out a startled little laugh, Steve glanced at his toes. Which were barely peeking out of the frothy layer of bubbles that covered the surface of the water. Biting his lip, he considered before replying.

_Steve 7:48 PM_

_Never let it be said I don’t know how to live._

            A long pause. Before the response came in, and Steve could practically hear the incredulity in Bucky’s voice.

_Bucky 7:50 PM_

_Seriously? You’re taking a bubble bath??_

            Steve chuckled, even as he could feel the heat of a blush creeping up his neck.

  _Steve 7:50 PM_

_Hey, I’ll have you know bubble baths are not just for kids. They are manly. Uber manly._

            Okay, so maybe his habit of regularly enjoying ridiculously frothy bubble baths was a bit of a guilty pleasure. That he’d never discussed with _anyone_. But he was ready to stand up for his unwinding method of choice. Metaphorically of course - the water was way too nice to not be lying in. Loafing on the coach just couldn’t compare. The absolutely giant claw foot tub in his apartment _might_ have been the selling point when he’d picked out his current abode. Folding his frame into a standard size tub didn’t really encourage the kind of relaxation he preferred, and so the bliss of a tub large enough for even his almost obscenely long limbs to sprawl in could not be overstate.

_Bucky 7:50 PM_

_Omg. Steve. Scoot over. On my way._

            Steve read the text. Blinked slowly. Read it again. Furrowed his brow as he tried to glean any possible meaning other than the obvious. But that couldn’t be it. Bucky wasn’t really suggesting he wanted to… Hearing the slamming of a door, then the pounding of feet up the stairs, before there was an insistent knocking at his own front door, Steve’s eyes grew wide as he stared at his entryway, then back down at his phone. Okay… Maybe Bucky was suggesting exactly that. Holy chimichanga.

            “Yo, Stevie, you gunna let me in, or am I going to give Mr. Garcia an unexpected show when he comes back from bingo night?” Hearing Bucky’s voice easily, considering the fact the building truly had zero soundproofing (the budget for it probably put towards the giant tub instead) Steve jolted into action. Jumped out of the tub, nearly slipping and biffing it hard, given the gratuitous amount of bubbles, he grabbed his towel, wrapped it around himself, and moved to the door. He sucked in a deep breath, then cautiously pulled it open. To see Bucky, standing there, arms braced on the door jamb, wearing nothing more than a sexy smirk, and a towel draped around his hips. Sweet taco Tuesday.

            It wasn’t that Steve hadn’t seen Bucky without a shirt before. He had. Once. When he’d come over to pick Bucky up for a date and the man had been changing after a day at the office. The brief flash of gorgeously tanned skin, and mouthwatering lean muscle had been more than enough to make Steve’s throat instantly dry. Yet now, seeing Bucky like this… Steve felt rather lightheaded. All the relaxing effects of the bath evaporated, when every muscle in his body tensed. From the effort it took not to simply grab the shorter man, and touch him, absolutely everywhere.

            “So, you gunna let me come share that bubble bath with you? It is the neighborly thing to do, Steve,” Bucky stated with mock solemnness, even as his eyes flickered over the white froth of bubbles slowly sliding down the rock solid planes of Steve’s abdomen. Before shifting back up to meet Steve’s gaze, pupils significantly wider.

            Not trusting his voice to work, Steve stepped back, and Bucky took the invitation, strolling past him towards the bathroom, Steve watching with abject fascination the way his butt looked in that towel. Before Bucky casually dropped said towel, and climbed in the tub, the door Steve had distractedly been closing abruptly slamming shut. Never had such a perfect butt ever existed, Steve was sure of it. Son of a fish.

            “Hey, you getting in or what? Waters going to get cold while you stand there,” Bucky invited, attention focused on sculpting his hair into a bubbly mohawk. Steve awkwardly moved back into the bathroom, staring at the tub that now looked a hundred times smaller with Bucky in it. Bucky looked up with a smile, sliding all the way to one end. His expression softened as he took in the way Steve rubbed the back of his neck, anxiously shifting weight from one foot to the other. “Will it help if I promise not to look?”

            Steve felt like an idiot. Steve _knew_ he was an idiot, when his amazing, incredible, and unbelievably sexy boyfriend was here, in his tub, and he was hesitating. He tragically considered how that seemed to be the story of this life. He was pretty sure his headstone would read “He hesitated. And then he died.” Yet before Steve could reply in the affirmative, or lecture himself into getting over himself and his insecurities that clearly working out hadn’t helped nearly as much as he’d though, Bucky was already closing his eyes, understanding smile still in place. As he began to blindly scoop up fluff and painstakingly craft a shockingly impressive handlebar mustache.

            Feeling his heart lurch in his chest, Steve felt his apprehensions slide away just enough to let his towel fall, before climbing into the tub with considerably more caution than he’d leapt out of it. Settling in opposite Bucky, both of them sitting with their legs folded so their knees touched in the middle, Steve leaned back. Then thought what the hell, and drained his beer. If any occasion called for it, this was certainly it.

            Eyes opening once more, Bucky grinned at Steve, showing off his new facial adornment. “What do you think? Is it my look?”

            Chuckling, Steve shook his head. Absorbing the thrill he felt when Bucky’s toes wiggled against his own. “Absolutely. You’re astoundingly attractive with a giant mustache. I may never be able to accept you any other way.”

            Bucky nodded, his face serious. “I think you’re right. This is my new look. You on the other hand… I’m thinking a beard is more your style.” He mused. When Steve laughed, Bucky grinned, before he leaned forward, and started smearing bubbles on Steve’s cheeks. Steve was nearly in tears by the time Bucky leaned back, nodding at his work in satisfaction. Admiring the truly inspiring bubble beard that made Steve look like a sexy Santa Claus. “Steve I’ve got to tell you. We are going to be some hot old men.”

            Clutching his chest, Steve laughed until his stomach hurt, adoring Bucky’s grin, and every single thing about him in this moment. “We’ll be all the rage in the nursing homes, I’m sure.”

            “It’s true. Old Gladys and Ethel will want to get their hands on our cute, old man butts. But too bad for them.”

            “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Steve asked, wiping his eyes as his laughter subsided, beaming happily at Bucky. Considering how this was by far the most fun bubble bath he’d ever had.

            “Cause no one’s touching my cute old man butt but you, obviously,” Bucky replied. Breathing calming, Steve stared at Bucky, feeling unexpectedly moved by the offhanded statement. Steve knew there was no way Bucky could know if that version of the future would come true. But knowing Bucky would even think of it – perhaps even _want_ it… it shoved past Steve’s insecurities. Wrapped around his heart until telling Bucky what was in it became more important than shielding himself against the hurt he’d been conditioned to expect, yet had never once received at Bucky’s hands.

            “I love you,” Steve said, watched the other man’s eyes widen, blur the slightest bit.

            “You… you do?” Bucky questioned, his voice hesitant.

            “Yeah, I do. I love you Bucky,” Steve repeated softly, reaching out and carefully wiping Bucky’s bubble mustache away before cupping that face he adored in his hands. He felt the already aching organ in his chest throb painfully, yet sweetly, when Bucky instantly leaned into the touch, the craving in his eyes unmistakable.

            “I love you too Steve,” Bucky breathed. “So much.” Hearing it, Steve understood in an instant why ribs were cages. It was because hearts were wild things, and his leapt within him at those words. Words he’d never expected to hear, and more, never thought he could truly believe. Yet seeing Bucky’s face, the dampness in those incredible eyes, hearing the catch in that voice he adored, somehow, Steve _did_. Bucky made him believe.

            Biting his lip, Steve’s gaze never left Bucky’s as the brunet lifted slightly shaking hands to brush the bubbles from his skin. Before cupping Steve’s face in turn, and leaned in to claim those lips with his own. Sighing, everything within him releasing as though he’d been in pain and never even noticed until it stopped, Steve leaned into the kiss, gliding his hands down Bucky’s throat, over his chest, before gliding around to clutch at his back, fingers pressing deep into beautiful muscle, encouraging the smaller man to move. Needing no more convincing than the pressure of Steve’s hands upon his body, _finally,_ Bucky shifted gracefully, until he was straddling the blond, knees on either side of Steve’s hips, never once breaking the kiss. The caress of mouth on mouth grew deeper, more heated, at the contact of skin on skin. Yet it never quickened, Bucky’s pace deliriously slow as he felt Steve shudder beneath him.

            Steve settled against the back of the tub, sighing into Bucky’s mouth when the brunet tangled his fingers in short blond hair, chest gliding, slick and wet against Steve’s. Tasting Bucky’s moan when he pulled the shorter man closer yet, hands shifting down on those narrow hips, pulling them flush with his own. Feeling something like triumph race through heated veins when Bucky moved restlessly in his lap, Steve’s apprehension at being touched, being seen, melting away. He’d never known his insecurities could so simply, so easily be dissolved. But it seemed obvious now, as he touched Bucky in turn, that this man was the answer.   To everything he’d ever needed to know.

            “Bucky,” he pulled back just enough to whisper, mouth still brushing the other man’s. Steve loved the way he could feel Bucky’s breath, ragged and unsteady, trembling over his lips.

            “Steve,” Bucky smiled. Opening his eyes to meet Steve’s once more, he slid his hands down to grip broad, sculpted shoulders. Bucky adored the way those intense blue eyes fluttered shut at the pressure of fingers pressing deep, before those ridiculously thick lashes lifted, gaze meeting Bucky’s again.

            “I want you Bucky,” Steve said, his voice steady. Watching, breath bated, as Bucky’s smile only grew.

            “You can have me. Whatever you want,” Bucky promised. He let out a noise of pleasure when Steve reared up, arms tightening around Bucky’s waist, teeth nipping sharply at Bucky’s lip.

            “Then let’s have each other,” Steve replied. Which sounded perfect to Bucky. And as it turned out – it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Steve, Bucky, bubbles baths... I just can't even. Except obviously I can, since I wrote it! I hope you liked this chapter, and if you did, happy comments from you would be the best birthday present ever :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! So sorry for the delay - I'm afraid my other fic Adrenalize Me took up much of my time, and then work has stolen what was left. But I'm back, and *hope* to put out a chapter every few days until this story is complete.

Breath ragged, Bucky lay with his head resting on Steve's chest. Exhausted in the best way, unable to do more than laze, draped over that incredible body that he now knew in incredible, exquisite detail. That same body had delivered a devastation of pleasure, Bucky nearly blacking out from the sheer glorious beauty of it all. So completely, wonderfully wrecked, he'd been unable to do more than make happy little noises when Steve arranged Bucky over him like his own personal Bucky blanket, more than content to be manhandled wherever Steve wanted him. And more than a little smug at the sound of the heart pounding as wildly as his own, clearly just as affected by the shattering intimacy they'd shared as he.

 _Jesus_ , Steve had taken him over so completely - Bucky had never been more thoroughly seduced. Yet it had been so much more than a simple meeting of lips, of hands holding each other close, of bodies pressing, desperate for more. There had been so much _love_ in every touch, in the way Steve looked at him, adoration in his expression as he'd gazed at Bucky laid out beneath him. Awash in the romance of it all, Bucky had been unable to hold back the repetition of “I love you”s, feeling secure for the first time that his love was _wanted_ , and returned. The sensation only deepened every time Steve smiled, so sweet and unguarded, lips brushing Bucky's as he whispered it back. Held so lovingly in those strong arms, Bucky knew his first hopeful, wistful thoughts upon hanging out with Steve had been right. This was everything he'd ever wanted.

            Hearing that heart rate slowly even out, Bucky sighed in contentment, snuggled in closer. Lingering pleasure was a slow, warm surge through his veins as Steve stirred himself to run a hand down the naked length of Bucky's back, before resting on his butt in a hold that was both possessive and delightful. Then Bucky let out unexpected snorting laughter when Steve breathed, his voice both rough and reverent, “Cheese and rice, Bucky. That was incredible.”

            Forcing his eyes open, Bucky tilted his chin up just enough that he could peer at Steve through his lashes, the smirk on his face so full of satisfaction it ought to be illegal. “That's one way to put it.” Steve smiled back, nothing but a sweet serenity on his face as he gazed with still somewhat hazed blue eyes.

            “Thank you,” he added, voice a quiet rumble in his chest.

            “For really spectacular sex?” Bucky teased with a little chuckle. Steve let out a laugh, his hand starting it's stroking motion down Bucky's spine once more.

            “Yeah, that's definitely on the list. But more for... asking me out? For being with me. For loving me,” he finished, his voice soft, nearly shy, yet the sincerity in it unmistakable. At that, Bucky found the strength to push up enough so he could look Steve fully in the face. Cupping Steve's face, he traced his thumb over the sharp line of that jaw, emotion a wet knot in his throat, yet it caused no pain. Instead, it was the sweetest happiness.

            “I do love you Steve. And I'm so fucking grateful, so happy, that you love me back. Thank you,” Bucky spoke, watched the emotion crash over Steve's face before leaning in to capture those beautiful lips with his own, the kiss slow, sweet, and everything that was good. When at last they parted, Steve's contented sigh echoed his own. Moving just enough to snag the blanket, and pull it over the both of them, Steve pressed a warm kiss to Bucky's forehead.

            “Stay,” he said quietly. Smiling, Bucky nodded as his eyes closed once more. That was all he wanted to do - for the rest of his life. Stay with Steve forever.

 

 

Unlocking his mail box, Steve winced when he saw precisely how much junk mail had been jammed in. With no small measure of aggression from his mailman, he could assume, given how thoroughly everything had been crumpled. His fault, Steve admitted with a guilty sigh. He hadn't checked his mail in a week. Granted, that hadn't been the only thing he'd neglected. It was fair to say a lot of things had fallen to the way side. Sleeping regular hours. Eating normal meals. Cleaning. Laundry. Yet when he'd spent the better part of a week in boxers, or nothing at all, that at least hadn't built up too bad. Unlike his unfortunate mailbox.

            True, it wasn't like Steve to let things go. Yet, when he'd finally confessed his feelings to Bucky, the miracle that was Bucky _returning_ those feelings had made every other thing in life feel, for a not so brief span of time, irrelevant. He'd wanted nothing more than to just be with Bucky, adore Bucky, love him in every way he could. The rest of world could wait.

            And holy taco, best case of self-imposed house arrest ever. It may have taken Steve his sweet time to work up to sex with Bucky, but once they'd started, the only problem had been _stopping._ Any confidence issues Steve had been suffering from were summarily destroyed by Bucky, who made his enthusiastic approval _very_ vocally evident. And, well, with a response like that, any self-control Steve had disappeared just as quickly. God, he couldn't get enough of Bucky, and hearing, seeing, _feeling_ so clearly how Bucky felt the same for him - it was no wonder he hadn't seen the outside world for days. Not that they'd stayed in bed the entire time.

            There had been forays into the shower - that quickly devolved into them getting more dirty than clean. Journeys to the couch where they'd promised solemnly they'd keep their hands to themselves. Only to have Bucky in Steve's lap less than ten minutes into Stonehenge Apocalypse. Treks to the kitchen, where they'd eat handfuls of cereal straight from the box, chugging down Gatorade like they'd just completed a marathon. Steve hadn't managed to get a single jog in, but feeling how deliciously tired his body was from all the exertion, he didn't think that getting exercise in was particularly a problem.

            Grinning at the thought, even as his pulse spiked remembering just how incredible it had been, Steve mused it was probably for the best he was engaging his downstairs neighbor in all the sex his body could handle. Because if someone else had been living below him, and subjected to the last week - well, Steve knew without a doubt the noise complaints against him would have gone up a hundred fold. Just as it was also probably for the best that Bucky, much to both of their chagrin, had been forced to bring their unexpected staycation to an end.

            Clint, the fantastic wingman that he was, had been fielding all the work for their company while Bucky had been busy getting it on with his hot stacked neighbor on every conceivable surface. Something Bucky had expressed his gratitude for, and via text promised Clint all the pizza he could want for the next month straight as repayment. Unfortunately, one of their major clients had just suffered a particularly nasty hack. And with Clint already juggling several other cases, Bucky had needed to fly out of town to handle the situation in person.

            Realistically, Steve knew it was for the best. For one thing, his own work had been piling up, and he needed to get back to it if he didn't want to be buried in commissions until Christmas. More, they'd been in serious danger of spraining something if they kept at it with the same level of insatiable enthusiasm. Or at the very least, breaking some furniture. Yet, he'd been sad to see Bucky go. Missing the man's presence in his home the several days he'd been gone. Enough so that he had begun to think maybe someday, perhaps someday not so terribly far in the future, he might ask Bucky what he thought about the idea of them living together. Just maybe.

            Steve’s head was full of maybe's since Bucky. And he was finding that rather than that being the nerve-wracking, anxiety inducing thing it used to be, where each maybe was a possibility for things to go wrong, instead it filled him with hope. For what they could be together. Bucky in his life had helped him push the pain and distrust of the past aside, and believe in something better once again.

            Finally managing to pry the last of his mail from the box, Steve hummed thoughtfully over the thoroughly mangled coupon for pizza, thinking that sounded pretty dang good after his productive day of cleaning and painting, when his head lifted at the sound of movement within Bucky's apartment. Unmistakable, given the acoustic properties of the building. And felt excitement well within him, immediately moving towards Bucky's door. When Steve had spoken to him that morning, Bucky hadn't been sure when he'd be heading back home, yet had been hopeful in might be that day.

            Grinning, immediately adjusting his mental pizza order to accommodate them both, he paused a step away from the door when he heard the deep rumble of a voice. A higher lilting female voice replying. Confused, Steve frowned. Clearly Bucky had company. Had he mentioned he had plans for when he returned? Regardless, perhaps it would be better if Steve sent him a text instead, rather than just showing up at his door when Bucky was otherwise engaged. After all, he _had_ been monopolizing all of Bucky's time before he'd left, Steve could hardly expect to do so the second he'd gotten home. Still, Steve would have thought Bucky would have let him know he was back...

            But before Steve could decide what to do, the sound of conversation cut off. Replaced by a feminine giggle. Then what could only be termed as a moan, low and breathy. Only just loud enough to be heard through the door. Yet that one sound completely and utterly sliced Steve in two. Blinking at the sharp rend of ripping paper, he looked down at his hands gone numb, gripping his mail to the point of tearing it.

            Steve swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, unable to comprehend what was happening. Unable to understand how it could be, every one of his hopeful maybe's shattering within him, jagged pieces that pierced his heart until it bled. Jolting at the vocal male groan, followed by the unmistakable sound of bodies colliding with the wall, Steve jerked back. Unable to stay a moment longer.

            Shoving through the apartment building's front door, Steve stumbled out, needing to get away. From the sounds of his dreams breaking. From the trust he'd managed to build with Bucky that was now a gaping wound inside of him. He wished he could escape his own rending pain as simply. Yet with each step he moved away, vision blurring until he had to blink away the tears that blinded his eyes, the hurt only grew. And Steve feared it would never stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Steve! Yet, perhaps everything is not what it seems. Can his love possibly be salvaged after this devastating blow? *Hint - don't give up now!!*


	14. Chapter 14

“Steve!” In a blur of tangled hair and wide frantic eyes, Bucky was out the door. Practically collapsing on the man who had just walked into the apartment building. After _days_. Days of no texts. No calls. No walking the floor above him. No response to Bucky's increasingly violent knocking and yelling at that silent door.

            Bucky hadn't been alarmed at first. Tired from his flight, he'd sent Steve a text, full of silly sentimental words and sparkly little heart emoji's that he no longer felt embarrassed to use. Not when Steve loved him, for the sappy ridiculous man that he was. He tried to stay awake, hoping to hear from his lover. Yet when he passed out sooner rather than later, due to jet lag and the pure inconvenience of travel, he hadn't been too concerned. After all, he knew Steve himself had plenty of work to catch up on. Friends he'd neglected during their sexual bonanza. An alarmingly empty fridge. No reason to be worried, when there were plenty of explanations why Steve hadn't responded immediately, enthusiastically. No reason to feel a little hurt. Everything was fine, he assured himself as he slid into sleep.

            Assurance didn't come so easily the next morning when he woke, and saw there was still no reply. Concerned, but trying to keep from leaping straight to panicked, Bucky texted again. Called. Knocked upstairs though he knew without a doubt there had been no movement on the floor above. Texted again. Called again. And again. And again.

            Two days later, concern had come and gone. Settled into panic. Certain Steve was _hurt_ , was dying, was worst of all dead. He'd knocked on his neighbors doors, asking if anyone had seen sight of Steve. No one had. In a moment of shockingly lucid thinking, he called Clint. Managed to make himself understood after repeated demands to calm down, take a breath, tell me again, what happened? Clint, who invaluably was in immediate contact with Natasha. And she would know, Bucky frantically assured himself.

            She would know where Steve was - what had happened. Know that Steve had decided to check himself into a full service spa with a cell phone free policy, for a full week of pampering. And yet... she hadn't. Nor could she get ahold of the blond either. Bucky's sheer terror at this point managing to influence Clint and Natasha both. Who showed up, Clint ready to break into Steve's home, but fortunately Natasha had the spare key. Bucky shouting Steve's name in fear as he shoved past her, into the apartment. Body shaking when they found no sign of him.

            At this point, Bucky was ready to start wandering the streets, in search of the man who had become his heart. Natasha managed to talk him out of it, just barely. Instead, she watched as he tried his best to wear a path straight through his floor into the apartment below, while she called every local hospital, making sure no one by Steve's description had been admitted. Clint, using his considerable nefarious skill for good, hacked the police records, making sure Steve had been neither incarcerated, or found dead at the scene of a crime.

            Nothing. They found nothing. And Bucky had nearly gone out of his mind with worry. Compulsively, anxiously staring through his peep hole any time he heard anyone enter the apartment building. And now Steve was _here_ , he was here, he was here in Bucky's arms. And Bucky finally realized, Steve was jerking back as though Bucky was _hurting_ him.

            “Oh my God, Steve, are you okay - where have you been - I've been so fucking worried, Steve are you hurt, are you sick, I can't - I don't - Steve-” He panted in a rush, emotion threatening to choke him, as he released Steve in an instant, to instead brush him hands over him, looking for an injury, a wound, a _reason_. Eyes burning with something too new and overwhelming to be anything resembling relief. Then Steve caught the hands that were rushing over him with his own. Stopped them. Lowered them until Bucky was no longer touching him. Then Steve let go - as though the very feel of Bucky's skin beneath his palms burned him.

            Bucky froze. The frenzied panic within him fell deathly still. Before slowly, surely, solidifying into dread.

            “Steve, what is it? What's _wrong_?” he demanded. Bucky hated the quaver in his voice. But unable to hide it when he finally was able to see the way Steve was staring at him. That look - it was one he'd never seen before. One that he _never_ wanted to see again. And he suddenly knew this, whatever _this_ was, was worse than anything he'd imagined with his increasingly horrific imagination over the past ninety seven hours.

            When Steve seemed to struggle for words, that same look of wrongness on the face Bucky had thought he knew so well, Bucky swallowed painfully. “I called you,” he managed. His voice sounding weak - just like he felt. Weak and dazed and confused.

            “My phone broke,” Steve said at last. And Christ, his voice - it sounded painfully rasping and abused, as though he'd spent every single one of the last ninety seven hours crying inconsolably. Hearing it, Bucky couldn't help but reach out once more, wanting to fix whatever was wrong. Then flinched when Steve took a definitive step back. No less shocked then he would have been had Steve instead stepped in, and punched Bucky clean in the face.

            “Steve please,” he whispered. Terror of a new kind tearing through him.

            A thousand different emotions flickered over that face, before a grim resolve seemed to settle on it. Steve's eyes flickering away - and fuck they were red, just like Bucky's, what had _happened?_ \- before they met Bucky's again.

            “I can't see you anymore. Please don't-” Steve's voice faltered, Bucky watched his throat work before he continued. “Don't try to contact me anymore.” With that, he turned, and started up the stairs, leaving Bucky staring after him in sickening confusion. And pain. So much pain.

            Lips parting, Bucky jolted when Steve's door closed gently behind him, the lock engaging with a quiet click that felt louder than a gunshot. Dazed, he stood there, for a length of time he had no way to measure. Trying to understand what had just happened.

            At last, he thought of Clint, thought of Natasha. Thought that they should know... they should know Steve was alive. Beyond that, he couldn't think of a single thing to say.

            Stumbling back into his apartment, he found his phone with shaking hands, typed in a message with trembling fingers. He sent it, then promptly turned the phone off. Not wanting to be pressed for explanations, when in this moment he understood nothing. Collapsing on the couch, he curled up. Heard the sounds of movement above. And closed his eyes.

 

 

“Steven Grant Rogers!”

            Splayed, face down on the floor of his living room, Steve gave mild consideration to getting up. Or at the least rolling over. Acknowledging the volatile wrath that he could feel was seconds from raining down on him like a hammerhead in Sharknado. And he dismissed the idea of doing anything more than what he'd already been doing. Breath in. Breath out. Repeat.

            Steve had dismissed a lot of things lately. Eating. Sleeping. Moving in any way beyond what was absolutely necessary. Part of him, a disassociated, logical, and thoroughly exasperated part of him, acknowledged this was fairly ridiculous. He'd dealt with break ups before. Although, Bucky and he had technically never even broke up... He'd dealt with being cheated on before. Okay, maybe the first go around had damaged his psyche and self-confidence irreparably, but he'd still led a pretty good life despite it. He could do it again. That is, if he could ever motivate himself into getting up off the floor. Which right now, didn't seem too likely.

            “Don't you dare ignore me when I'm yelling at you!” Blinking slowly as petite shoes came into view, Steve sighed. Hoped that if she was going to kick him, it wouldn't be in the face. That really hurt.

            “Hi Nat,” he slurred into the carpet. Nearly felt the outrage vibrating off her in response.

            “‘Hi Nat’”, she repeated, her voice going deadly calm. That was never good. Steve knew full well it was the silence before the explosion. And was proven right when three seconds later, she did exactly that. “What the hell is wrong with you? You go off for days, don't tell anyone what's happening, you could have been dead-”

            “No notes, bed empty, car gone,” Steve muttered quietly. Finding the similarity between his redhead friend reading the riot act, and Harry Potter's famous Mrs. Weasley vaguely amusing. The way everything was vague right now. Not much was able to penetrate through the heavy cloak of hurt around him. Yet even vaguely, he knew better than to cut off her rant and risk physical retribution. Those shoes looked like they'd inflict some serious pain on any portion of his body they might connect with.

            “What in the world happened?” she ended furiously.

            Pondering various responses, Steve sighed. Gave up on trying for anything resembling witty or evasive. Settled with the classic “I don't wanna talk about it.”

            Which went about as well as he could have expected. Seething silently at the audacity of his entirely unsatisfactory answer, Natasha seemed to consider. Before crouching down, flipping him onto his back with a move that was all sorts of impressive given their comparative weights, then ensured he didn't wiggle away by sitting down. On top of him.

            “Spill it Rogers. Don't make me hurt you.” Steve sighed again, knowing it wasn't an empty threat. Yet nothing else _could_ hurt, in comparison to having his heart broken. Although her sitting on his stomach didn't exactly feel great.

            “Bucky... and I... We aren't together anymore.”

            Of all the answers she had been anticipating, this clearly hadn't been top of the list. Drawing her brows together, she jabbed him in the chest. And that didn't feel too good either. “You can't pretend he broke up with you. I saw him, he's been a mess for days, freaking out over whether you were dead.”

            And God, that hurt to hear. No, Bucky hadn't broken up with him, despite obviously wanting something, _someone_ else. Which, as devastating as being dumped would have been, Steve knew it would have been better. Than having his trust betrayed.  

            “He didn't. But it's over.”

            When he at last met her gaze, he could see Natasha frowning, ready to launch her next volley at him, and headed it off. Deciding it would be better to get it out quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. “He cheated on me.” At this, her brows flew up, mouth falling open in stunned reaction. Steve considered. Sighed morosely once more. Nope, not better.

            “You saw him? I can't believe he would... how do you know?” she demanded, disbelief clear in her voice.

            “No, I didn't see it. But I know.”

            Staring down at her best friend, who was currently looking more defeated then she'd seen him in the entirely of her life, Natasha frowned once more. Nothing about this was adding up. When she and Clint had gotten the notification Steve was alive, they'd joyfully replied. Only to discover Bucky had gone radio silent as well. When they showed up, present a united front at Bucky's apartment first, the brunet had been a wreck. Morosely lying on his couch - not unlike Steve on his floor.

            The best they could work out of him was that Steve didn't want to see him anymore. Which had left her no choice but to go up and do some best friend ass kicking, because she couldn't conceive of a reason Steve would let Bucky go. Now, she would be willing to bet her left kidney Bucky would never cheat on Steve, and she was pretty invested in keeping all her vital organs. If there was any chance this was a misunderstanding - she had to know. There was no way she was letting Steve let go of something that made him happier than she'd ever seen him over an uncertainty.

            “Tell me what happened.”

            At this, Steve didn't sigh again. But visibly deflated. The pain naked on his face. Yet fortunately, he didn't make her force it out of him, both of them knowing full well she was more than capable. “I was just taking care of some chores when he was gone on his trip - when I thought he was gone on his trip,” he amended, voice ragged, Natasha listening carefully. “When I went down to get my mail I... heard him.”

            “Heard him?” she prompted, confused.

            “In his apartment. With a woman. It was pretty damn clear what was going on in there. I didn't even think, didn't know what to do.   I just left. Then I got a text from him hours later saying he just got home and I... I broke my phone.”

            Had completely crushed it was more accurate. Hand flexing violently over the hapless device upon hearing from Bucky, the blatant lie the final blow to his already broken heart. At that point, for lack of any better option, Steve had checked himself into a hotel. And not budged for three days. Finally, it was only the desire to eat something other than snacks from the mini bar, and the fact he desperately needed fresh clothes that had prompted him to sneak back into his own freaking apartment. And look how well that had worked.

            The worst of it, by far, had been seeing Bucky. Knowing the man had shattered his trust, and still wanting to cling to him anyways. Wanting to cry and let himself be comforted. But as hard as it had been to turn away, Steve knew he'd never forgive himself for settling for a relationship where he wasn't someone's one and only.

            Realizing absently that there had been no reply to this dramatic announcement, which was rather surprising when he thought about it, he looked back at Natasha. Who had her hands clapped over her mouth, eyes so wide he was concerned. Vaguely.

            Slowly she dropped her hands, revealing an expression of pure horror. Before giving the last response he could have ever anticipated. “I am the worst wingman in the world,” she whispered. Dismay dripping from her voice.

            Sighing again seemed like the appropriate response. Despite his overwhelming agony, and the popularly held idiom that pain loved company, Steve didn't want that for Natasha. He gave her leg a halfhearted pat. “Don't be so hard on yourself. You never could have known he'd do this,” Steve mumbled. Then blinked when she shifted, abruptly hauling him into a sitting position so she could grab his shoulders in a death grip and speak with an alarming amount of intensity, alarmingly close to his face.

            “Steve. Bucky didn't cheat on you.”

            Foolishly, his heart leapt, before just as quickly plummeting. False comfort, no matter how well intended, was the last thing he wanted right now. “Nat-” he began, before she cut him off with a glower that was frankly alarming.

            “Jesus Christ on a crutch. I don't believe this,” she muttered wildly, before giving him a shake that rattled his already painful head. “Worst wingman in _history_. Listen, Steve it was me. And Clint!” she added quickly when she saw his eyes widen in betrayal, decimated with a whole new level of hurt. “Bucky was still out of town, and Clint needed some files Bucky had stored on his home lap top, so Clint went over to Bucky's place. I already was heading over to visit you, and when Clint mentioned he was at Bucky's I dropped by there first. And, well, what you heard, uhhh...”

            Steve, who had paled with each word, now looked like he was about to have an aneurism. “It was you and Clint?” he repeated.

            “Steve, I am so sorry. I didn't even think - I mean, I didn't even know anyone would hear us, and well Clint has this thing about exotic locations, and I don't know that Bucky's apartment counts as exotic, although maybe you could almost consider it a theater with that giant ass TV, but still, one thing led to another and-”

            “He never cheated on me,” Steve whispered. Aghast. Realizing with dawning horror just what he'd done.

            Pressing her lips together, recognizing she was rambling, something Natasha was certain she'd done approximately _never_ , she nodded. She watched in alarm as Steve when from sickly white to an even sicker green in the space of a second. “Fuck!” he shouted. Steve surged to his feet, catching Natasha at the last second, saving her from being dumped on her ass. He carefully setting her upright. Then stalking around his apartment in increasing agitation. “Fuck! _Fuck!_ ” he bellowed, Natasha watching cautiously. Steve riled up was an impressive sight to see. Steve so angry he was swearing, using actual, human curse words - she was certain that had also happened approximately never.

            “Shit, I screwed up so bad!” he lamented, before dropping heavily to the couch, head in his hands. Sitting delicately beside him, Natasha took one of his hands in her own, squeezed it sympathetically.

            “In your defense - it makes sense why you thought what you did,” she offered. Knowing it wasn't much consolation, but was true all the same.

            Steve shook his head, her words offering no absolution. “I have to fix this. If I can. Fuck, Natasha what if I can't fix this?” he demanded, looking at her with eyes miserable with guilt. Which only added to her own, knowing that she and Clint and their extracurricular shenanigans had unwittingly destroyed their real life OTP. Sweet cinnamon rolls too good for this world, who had made literally the cutest couple, so adorable the average human could hardly stand it. And their spicy escapades brought it all to a violent end. Putting Clint, as her partner in said shenanigans, in equal running for worst wingman ever. It was unacceptable.

            “You can. _We_ will,” she promised, determination filling her. Then sighed wearily when Steve immediately stubbornly shook his head again.

            “No. Thank you, but this is something I have to fix on my own. I just have to figure out how,” he trailed off. Brows knitting in thought, even as remorse hit him all over again. Fuck, poor Bucky - what he'd put him through... Could he possibly forgive Steve for it? Did he even deserve to be forgiven? Maybe not... But damn it, he had to try. If there was ever a time to put aside all hesitation, and man up, it was now!

            Seeing the resolution move over his face, recognizing that stubborn look all too well, she decided the simplest tactic was to just agree. And then do exactly what she had to do anyway. “If you need anything Steve, you know I'm here. Although, uh, you might need a new phone to do that.” Considering, she quickly dug in her purse she'd dropped during her initial tirade. Pulled out a cell. “Here, this is a burn phone I have for work. In case of emergency. This definitely qualified. You use it for now.”

            And despite everything, Steve felt a small smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Seriously, Natasha, _what_ in the world do you do?”

            “If I told you, I'd have to kill you. And you're just too pretty to die,” she replied. Before pressing a kiss to his cheek, and then heading out the door, leaving Steve to his plotting. She had to do some damage control of her own. Never let it be said Natasha Romanov didn't clean up her messes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worst misunderstanding of all time! Poor Steve. Poor Bucky. Poor cinnamon rolls, too good for this world! But all is not lost - not when two wingmen are determined to reclaim their title as the best, and Steve is determined to make up for his actions. Stay tuned for the epic conclusion of this fluffy fic that unexpectedly turned feelsy, but will return to it's fluffy nature before we're through! As always, if you're enjoying this story, I'd love to hear from you :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are... The last chapter. I can't believe we're here! *sigh* Well, on that note, please enjoy my lovely readers :D And thank you so much for sticking with this story!

“Do you maybe want to, uh, watch a movie?” Clint suggested, staring at Buck with an obvious concern that Bucky was not oblivious to. Although Clint was trying to be subtle about both his concern, and his attempts to cheer Bucky up. Bucky would have told him to spare himself the effort, because subtly wasn't really Clint's strong suit. If he were talking, that is. But since Bucky couldn't be bothered to formulate actual words, he didn't. Instead, just let out a sigh.

            “I'll even watch Yeti, Curse of the Snowman, if you want,” Clint offered. The pain self-inflicted by even proposing such a thing was obvious in his tone. And Bucky was absently impressed, considering the last time he'd tried to bring it up, Clint had threatened to hack into the sci-fi channel databank and corrupt all their files so they could never play all day marathons of the Ice Spiders trilogy ever again. Truly, this was a heroic sacrifice on Clint's part. One Bucky was sure he would appreciate someday, when he was capable of appreciation once more. But right now, the only thing he had the capacity to appreciate was how surprisingly soft and luxuriant his living room carpet was. Considering he was sprawled out on it like a victim of a hit and run. Which, come to think of it, wasn't too far off from the truth. He was sure the confusion and pain he was experiencing right now was comparable.

            Staring at his best and oldest friend, face down on the ground, wearing an expression better suited to a comatose patient, Clint frowned. He wondering what the hell to do now, hoping Natasha was having better luck upstairs with the no longer missing Steve. Clintd debated if it was poor conduct to have one of the beers in Bucky's fridge right now. God knew, Bucky could use one. But since he currently wasn't doing much beyond twitching vaguely on the floor, it seemed only right that Clint, as his best and oldest friend, drink on his behalf.

            “Maybe, uh, you'll feel better after a shower?” Clint proposed delicately. Thinking that was something that might make everyone in the immediate vicinity feel a little better. At that, Bucky let out a grumble, the content unintelligible. But the message was clear enough. Bucky wasn't budging. Well damn.

            Before he could come up with an equally unwanted and ineffective solution, Natasha came bursting through the door like a hurricane. The intensity of her entrance and the fervor of her expression made even Bucky tilt his head a fraction of an inch to better take in the sight of her. “Bucky, I am so sorry. It's all Clint and I's fault,” she announced with no preamble.

            The impressive declaration met with twin exclamations of “ _What_ ”, sheer confusion in Bucky's voice, impressive affront in Clint's.

            “Clint, we're officially the worst,” she announced, before she knelt beside Bucky, tone gentling. “As it turns out, Steve was, how shall I say... under the impression you cheated on him.”

            “What?” Again, the twin echoes, this time their bafflement in equal measure. Patting Bucky's shoulder consolingly when he shoved up into a sitting position, the better to stare at her incredulously, she pinned Clint with a look that was equal part accusatory and commiserating.

            “When you were gone, Steve may have, well, heard some activity going on. In your apartment. He, naturally, jumped to the conclusion that you were back, since, you know, it was _your_ apartment and all. And what he heard...” Trailing off, she bit her lip, the guilt on her face obvious. She stared at Clint as his own expression turned from one of bewilderment to horrified chagrin. Before they turned as one to look hesitantly at Bucky, who stared between the two, brow furrowed as he tried to work through what Natasha had said, and more, what she hadn't.

            “So Steve heard... you guys in my apartment?” Two guilty nods. “And whatever he heard... made him think I was cheating on him?” Two slower, increasingly guilty nods. “So that's why he...” Natasha stared at Bucky with concern as he trailed off, Clint with open fear. He knew full well just what sort of revenge the brunet was capable of cooking up when Clint had screwed up, and never had he done anything as worthy of revenge as this.

            “Bucky, listen, I didn't – we didn’t-” Clint began. Before he was cut off by Bucky's violent explosion.

            “You guys had sex in my apartment?”

            “Uhhh-” Clint began, ever so eloquently. Falling silent when Bucky buried his face in his hands, shoulders beginning to shake, Clint traded looks of miserable helplessness with Natasha at the complete and utter cluster fuck their adventurous encounter had created. “Buddy, listen,” Clint started, before Bucky dropped his hands. Revealing the sound he'd been muffling, which were not sobs, but rather laughing. Hysterical, high pitched laughing.

            “Oh my fucking God. Here I thought he just didn't love me anymore, and he thought I _cheated_ on him!” Bucky gasped out. The sheer stupidity of it clearly sending him over the edge he'd been hovering on for days.

            “Well. That is, um, a silver lining,” Natasha offered solicitously, patting his shoulder once more.

            “Buddy. Seriously, Bucky I am so sorry. We both are.”

            Meeting Clint's genuinely apologetic, and frankly pathetic expression, Bucky tried to sort through the frantic surge of emotions and wild, half formed thoughts. Promptly gave up. Bucky sighed one last time, and nodded. “I know.” He had no idea what to do now, but their sincere regret was obvious.

            “On that note. I think it's best if we leave you two to it. To, ah, sort this out. But please, if you need anything at all, seriously give us a call,” Natasha said at length. She pressed her hand to his cheek before getting gracefully to her feet, tugging a significantly less graceful Clint to his as well.

            “Seriously,” Clint echoed. “Like, hey, once everything's all worked out, you two should borrow our jet skis! For as long as you want, any time!” he shouted as Natasha forcefully yanked him away, his words punctuated by the door closing behind them.

            Sitting in silence, Bucky felt violently buffeted by shock, hurt, anger, frustration. Each emotion surging, overlapping the last until he felt nearly nauseated from it. Disbelief that Steve had ended them over something that hadn't been his _fault_. Anger at being so easily tossed aside, when his feelings for Steve had been deeper and truer than anything he'd ever known. A random moments concern wondering just what surfaces Clint's naked butt might have touched, and sent up a fervent prayer that the answer was _none_. But regardless, he saw some serious disinfecting in his future.

            Leaning forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and tangling his hands in his hair, Bucky tugged until the sharp jolt of pain managed to slice through the roiling mass inside of him. He considered the only question that really mattered. Clint and Natasha were so sure he and Steve would make amends. _Could_ make amends. But now, knowing what he knew, did he want to? Pain a raw, living thing inside of him, Bucky couldn't move past it enough for an answer.

            Letting out a shuddering breath, Bucky shoved to his feet. He decided Clint's polite suggestion that he shower wasn't such a bad one after all. If nothing else, it let him stall when any higher brain function felt beyond him at the moment. Plus, if he felt the need to cry some more, he could always pass it off as shampoo in his eyes to feel slightly less pathetic. So that was something.

            It wasn't until he was halfway through his anticipated bout of completely manly and not at all pathetic tears, that one incredibly important realization managed to emerge from the hurricane inside of him. And it was how badly _Steve_ must have been hurting these past few days. Just the thought of it sent a new, vicious, stabbing pain tearing through Bucky's already wounded heart. Imagining the level of betrayal Steve must have felt. And after how things had ended with his ex... Jesus, no wonder Steve had run.

            Thinking of it now, the decision was made for him. Bucky’s own hurt, he could handle. Perhaps not well, given his prior lying on the floor status, but still. Steve's hurt though - the very concept of it was unacceptable to every part of his being. Realizing that, he understood all at once. Of _course_ he wanted them to work through this, when Steve's pain became him own. When Steve's happiness mattered to him more than anything else.

            Turning off the shower with a resolute snap of his wrist, Bucky firmed his jaw. Vowed that this time, he'd fight for what he wanted. Which, he anticipated by Steve's continued absence, might be necessary. He'd damn well shout some sense into the blond if that's what it took to make him see Bucky loved him, and would _never_ betray him. Shake Steve until he saw reason. Then maybe kiss the crap out of him afterward, because, again, his lover had been hurting. But still. Only _after_.

            Wasting precious minutes debating on an outfit, because when you tried to win back the love of your life, you didn't just show up in anything, Bucky shrugged into clothing he prayed would give him confidence. And, if he was lucky, remind Steve of his truly spectacular ass. Of how much Steve had admired and enjoyed said ass. At this point, Bucky had no shame and wasn't above using anything that might help him. Yet after giving himself one last glance in the mirror, Bucky turned, then nearly plowed head first into the wall, when he stepped on his damp towel and slipped. The damp towel he couldn't see, given the fact that seconds after a terrific boom of thunder outside, all the lights in the apartment flickered off, plunging him in to darkness.

            So absorbed in the storm inside of him, Bucky had barely noticed the rain outside increasing in intensity. Yet as he managed to catch himself just in time to avoid a wall induced concussion, Bucky had to laugh. Clearly, fate had a sense of humor. A power outage had brought Steve to his door, and into his life. This time, he was determined to make sure Steve stayed in it.

            Carefully feeling his way to the door, he let himself out into the pitch black apartment hallway. Bucky cautiously began to feel his way up the stairs. Before letting out a startled “Umph,” when he ran into something, tall, warm, and distinctly solid. Which let out an equally surprised grunt. “Steve?” Bucky demanded when hands instantly wrapped around him, preventing him from topping backwards down the stairs. Something he sincerely appreciated, not wanting a concussion of the falling down the stairs variety either.

            “Bucky?” Steve demanded at the same time, the shock in his voice evident.

            “Fancy seeing you here,” Bucky said dryly, heard Steve's quiet groan a second later at the truly terrible nature of the joke, considering neither of them could see period. But still, Bucky figured he should be cut some slack. He wasn't exactly at his best given the current situation.

            “Um, I was coming down to you-” Steve began, and while Bucky couldn't read the expression on his face, he could hear the painful hesitancy in his voice, and it sent a new pang through his chest.

            “Needed a lighter?”

            “No, I ... no,” Steve said, feeling more awkward with each moment. This is not at all how he'd wanted this to go. But hell, he had Bucky here in his hands, and the brunet was neither punching him in the jaw or running the other direction. Taking that as an encouragement, he took a deep breath. “Can we, um, talk? At my place?”

            “Alright.”

            Carefully releasing Bucky now that he was certain Bucky wasn't going to go toppling down the steps, hating to let the other man go for even a moment, Steve walked back towards his own apartment. He opened the door, and in the illumination that shone out, gestured Bucky on ahead of him. Who willingly moved inside, before falling still in the kitchen, eyes going wide at the scene laid out before him.

            Countless candles flickered on every surface, casting their warm glow on the walls. On the table sat Bucky's favorite beer, a giant bowl of Cheetos, and Totino's pizza rolls. “What's all this?” Bucky demanded. He turned to see Steve standing beside him. Not quite near enough to touch. Steve rubbed at the back of his neck, the emotion running over his face complex.

            “It was supposed to be your welcome home dinner,” Steve admitted softly. Unable to meet Bucky's gaze.

            “Steve, listen-”

            “No, wait. I need to say this.” Sucking in a trembling breath, Steve forced himself to meet Bucky’s eyes. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Something happened, and I thought... I thought you had betrayed me. But I should have talked to you. I should have... I should have _trusted_ you. I didn't, and I screwed up, and I hurt you. And you don't deserve that. I'm so sorry Bucky. I'll understand if you don't want to... don't want me anymore. But you deserve to hear I'm sorry.”

            Seeing that gaze darken, Steve shifted. Yet he didn't try to look away, accepting whatever Bucky decided. Body tensed, damaged heart braced. Steve nearly stumbled back from the blow when Bucky slowly shook his head. Yet before he could turn, try to hide this new level of hurt, knowing he'd earned it, Bucky stepped forward, eliminating the space between them. He took Steve's face in his hands.

            “This isn't all on you. Yes, I wish you would have talked to me. But I can't blame you for thinking I'd cheated on you - I mean, hearing whatever you heard, and God I pity you for hearing those lunatics doing anything of an adult nature, it's an obvious conclusion to draw. And I understand why your first instinct wasn't to knock on the door and bust up what you thought was happening. Given what happened with your ex. I _get_ it Steve.”

            Undone, Steve felt his eyes grow damp at the unexpected, generous and humbling expression of Bucky's understanding. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't have looked away now. Drinking in the sight of Bucky's sad little smile, his thumb gently brushing away the tear that had spilled over.

            “And yes. I want you Steve. Fuck, I love you, of course I want you. But I need you to make me a promise. Promise me that anytime you are upset about something I've done, or haven't done, or something you _think_ I've done, you will talk to me. So we can work through it together. I know that that could be hard, and the last thing you want to do. But it's the only way a relationship can work. And I promise you that I will never cheat on you. I won't lie to you. And if we somehow enter some crazy ass parallel universe where I ever do something that shitty, you have my blessing to punch me right in the face.”

            Pleased when that surprised a laugh out of Steve, Bucky felt his smile grow. Composing himself, Steve took a deep breath. An easier breath than he'd experienced in days. “I promise Bucky.”

            “Good. Now can we just be glad I'm back home, you're back home, agree to hopefully never break up again, and just be freaking happy?”

            “That sounds pretty perfect to me.” Steve was in complete agreement with this plan, almost unable to comprehend that Bucky could forgive him. He was so grateful Bucky's heart was bigger than his hurt. And he was equally determined to make Bucky never regret his choice.

            Jerking the smaller man forward until their bodies were pressed together, every inch of Steve sighed in blissful relief at the contact he'd been aching for, for what felt like an eternity. Swallowing the pleased little noise Bucky made at the motion, Steve kissed him as though he were starving for it - not so far from the truth. He enjoyed how Bucky's pleased noise turned into a raw, needy moan, the taste of it more addicting than any flavor Steve had ever known. Viscerally appreciating how Bucky's hands shifted to grip around his waist, tugging them only closer together.

            Wrapped around each other, consumed in each other, they kissed endlessly. Each brush of their lips a silent promise to love each other. To fight for each other. At last, it was only the scent of pizza rolls taunting Bucky, making his stomach growl loudly, determined to make its own needs known, that had them pulling apart. Bucky grinning and shrugging as Steve laughed. “What can I say - love me some pizza rolls.”

            “And I love you,” Steve replied smiling, every hurt inside healing at being able to say it once more. Stepping back, taking Bucky's hand in his own because he couldn't force himself to let go completely, not yet, he tugged the brunet over to the table. Who needed absolutely no convincing to start shoving pizza rolls in his mouth.

            “Ohmygawd soooogoood,” Bucky slurred, taste buds singing and stomach rejoicing at the first food he'd eaten in, well, he wasn't really sure. His eyes half closed in sheer bliss. Before they opened wide in sudden shock. Swallowing, Bucky’s fingers clenched around Steve's.

            Concerned, Steve was about to ask what was wrong - perhaps the Totino's were still frozen inside, or the approximate temperature of lava, both common problems with pizza rolls - when he followed Bucky's gaze to the canvas that was leaning against the wall. Oh, yeah.

            Releasing Steve's hand, Bucky slowly moved towards it, lifted the painting with reverence. “Steve, did you... paint this? For _me_?”

            “Well, um. Yes,” Steve replied, wondering if he'd miscalculated. If Bucky hated it. Yet before he could start to panic too intensely, Bucky brought his anxiety to an abrupt end.

            “I love it. Oh my God, Steve. This is incredible!” Tilting the painting towards the candle light, Bucky's eyes eagerly drank in what he knew was a masterpiece. Clearly taking a cue from the movie posters on Bucky's wall, Steve had painted the cover of Yeti, Curse of the Snowman, in the vintage style of old horror movies like The Swamp Creature.

The workmanship alone was brilliant, the technique gorgeous, colors vibrant. Yet what made it so special was that Steve had replaced the strapping yet obscure sci-fi channel actor with an incredible likeness of _Bucky_. Bucky, looking fierce, sexy, and ready to take on any snowy environment inhabiting creature, evil or benign.

            Finally tearing his eyes away to look at Steve, who was flushing happily, Bucky shook his head in disbelief at receiving such an incredible, personal gift. “When did you do this?”

            “When you were gone on your trip. I knew I should have been working on other paintings, but, I wanted to surprise you with it instead.” And had been tempted to chuck it over the edge of his balcony when he'd finally come back home, his hurt and anger only burning more painfully at the sight of the painting he'd spent so many hours working on. Thank God Steve hadn't given into that particular desire.

            Eyes softening, Bucky carefully set it back down, before pulling Steve in once more, this kiss one of thanks. “You are amazing. I love it. Thank you so much, I will hang it on my wall forever.” And he did hang it on his wall. But as it turned out, it only stayed there for eight months. At which point, Steve finally gathered up the courage to ask Bucky if he wanted to live together. Bucky's answer being an obvious, resounding, “ _Hell_ _yes_.” And then it hung on _their_ wall, forever. And while life wasn't always perfect, they found that when they took it on together, it was amazing, and everything they ever could have hoped for. Which in itself, was pretty damn perfect.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, the major question answered... Yes Clint bought him and Natasha jet skis! Oh, and yeah, Steve and Bucky end up together happily ever after ;) Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this story, being patient when I wandered away from it for a bit, for you kudo's, bookmarks and sweet comments. They mean the world to me, and really add to the fun of writing. If you still enjoyed this story all the way till the end, I'd especially love to hear from you on this last chapter! Regardless, thank you for reading.


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